A Duet of Fists
by Gaming Ikari
Summary: Ranma and Ryouga find themselves under the effects of a spell and are forced to grudgingly set aside their differences in order to free themselves from the ties which bind them together. Now reworked as a story called Forcibly United.
1. Chapter 1

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 1: The ties which bind

Bone snapped on flesh as two martial artists clashed, exchanging blows and bouncing around the Tendou dojo with a manic energy not shared by the rest of the household, still shaking off the sleep in the dawn light. Ranma grinned as he slipped his head past his father's fist, sliding a foot in between his father's legs and lashing out with a vicious shoulder ram to the elder Saotome's solar plexus. The blow stunned him long enough for Ranma to sweep the older man onto his back, not releasing his grip on the man's dogi and rolling over him to send his father into the koi pond.

"Breakfast!" A light voice called from the kitchen as Kasumi walked into the dining room. A tray of lightly cooked fish and seven bowls of rice pulled the father and son from their melee into the house with all the haste their battered bodies could produce. Ranma ignored the panda thrashing it's way out of a tattered white training outfit, opting to quickly sit next to his uncute fiancée.

Quiet bickering slowly transformed into loud arguing as Ranma defended his decision to eat before a morning bath with sharp retorts. Only the desire to pause and savor the honey and lemon glaze blunted his quips and prevented the argument from escalating.

All in all, it was a rather normal morning for the Tendou household and it's two permanent house guests. Akane and Ranma were verbally clashing, the pigtailed boy falling into the comforting familiarity of the routine to avoid the topic of the aborted wedding. Nabiki quietly jotted down notes in her small black notebook. Genma and Soun chatted quietly, the latter reading the small wooden signs the former used to communicate. Kasumi hummed quietly to herself, serenely occasionally refilling rice bowls between bites with practiced ease.

Only the diminutive pervert sitting on the dojo rooftop faced the day with change in mind. Happosai stared grimly at the happy family as he seethed, furious with the young pig-tailed man. The little upstart. The brat had gotten a lot more uppity after coming back from Jusendo. So what if he'd beaten up that little fire bird? That would have been child's play! He had no right to show such constant disrespect!

He'd refused Happosai's training last week. Refused it!

Happosai muttered darkly in an ancient tongue as he toyed with Yuki-onna's Braids. A pair of chains comprised of tiny oval links, one gold and the other platinum, they were designed to control any creature with a simple spell. Upon the completion of the spell, the two chains would hurl from their place on Happosai's lap to fly towards Ranma, each wrapping around one of his arms and binding the pigtailed martial artist to Happosai's will.

Then he could make the boy a proper heir, starting with teaching the young upstart a proper respect for the silky darlings all around him. Ranma had more than enough speed and skill to pilfer them from the weak girls that surrounded him; he even had the chi control to harness all of that lovely female energy almost as well as Happosai himself!

It was just criminal for the heir to the Anything Goes school not to take advantage of his skills!

Happosai's attention was only briefly divided as he noted the pigtail boy's rival landing on the shingled top of the compound's wall. The ancient lecher turned his attention back to the spell. The appearance of the boy would only serve to make capturing Ranma easier.

"Ranma! Come out here and fight me like a man!" Ryouga called, tossing his pack inside as he cracked his fists. Ranma immediately got up from his position at the table, striding out from the dining room to stand on the edge of the porch, casually taking another mouthful of rice as his eyes measured his foe. The fanged brawler didn't appear any different, though painful experience had taught the blue-eyed youth that appearances meant little.

"You're sounding pretty confident, P-chan," Ranma noted with a grin, setting down the bowl on the edge of the porch as he stepped off the porch. He cocked his head to the side. "Let me guess, did you pick up a new technique while you were trying to find the bathroom?"

"Shut up, Ranma! I don't need a new technique to deal with you!" With a wordless battle cry, the Lost Boy launched himself from the wall and leveled a devastating kick at his foe, already slipping around the attack and positioning himself to counter. He danced over Ranma's retaliatory sweep, throwing a punch which Ranma barely managed to intercept with his left hand.

Ranma bounced back, once again evaluating his foe. That punch had been far quicker than anything he'd ever seen from the brown-eyed boy. It actually approached the speed he'd gained when he'd first trained to use the Amaguriken.

"Your speed's gotten a lot better, pork breath," Ranma noted, wincing as he tried not to rub the palm of his left hand with his right. Not only was Ryouga fast, he'd retained all of his freakish strength, too. The combination didn't seem fair to the long-haired youth. "Let me guess, you happened to have a bag of chestnuts with you one day when you were camping in the Arctic."

"! I figured if an idiot like you could benefit from the technique, I could too!" Ryouga spat as he confidently advanced on his rival. Ranma decided to take the fight to his foe, throwing himself into a forward roll which allowed him to vault skyward over the Lost Boy. Briefly confused by the sudden change in his foe's altitude, Ranma planted his feet on the young man's face as he paused, climbing higher into the air as he knocked his rival off-balance.

"Moko Takabisha!" With a grin, Ranma used his own chi to simultaneously blast Ryouga and gain enough altitude to reach the top of the house, where he casually turned to watch the stocky young man furrow a trench in the ground. Ryouga struck the solid wall of the dojo before he shook the dirt from his clothes and leaped up after Ranma.

Happosai completed his spell just as Ryouga got into grappling range with his pigtailed opponent. Speed he'd previously lacked combined with his foe's unadjusted perception of his fighting style allowed him grab a fistful of red shirt before the blue-eyed boy could maintain his distance. Ranma gripped the bandanna-clad boy's arm, cocking back an arm to throw a throw a hook aimed squarely for jaw as he flinched. The Anything Goes fighter knew who would win a blow-for-blow slugging match.

The two chains rose from the pervert's lap with a hint of chilled air, speeding directly towards Ranma's wrists in a blur of flashing gold and grey. The platinum chain struck true, wrapping itself snugly around Ranma's cocked-back right forearm with the abrupt speed of a boa constrictor. The gold chain flew towards Ranma's left arm but found itself intercepted by Ryouga's right arm. The links writhed with fury as if the offending limb had chosen to block the spell, then suddenly wrapped itself around the fanged boy's forearm as if fed up with trying to bypass the obstacle.

Both boys became as still as a photo, staring blankly at the new decorations on their arms. After a moment of confused silence, they became aware of the close contact they shared and broke apart with a mutually violent thrash. Ryouga's feet scattered roofing tiles as he fought momentum's determination to pitch him onto his back, finally sliding to a stop a short distance away. Ranma opted to allow momentum to do his work, briefly planting his hands and flexing his abdominal muscles to handspring to his feet.

The two boys kept their attention focused on one another, cautious habit overriding idle curiosity. The chains didn't hurt and seemed to have no effect, making them a distant second on the list of their priorities. The wary silence stretched as they slowly reigned in their animosity.

"What the hell is this, Ranma?" Ryouga finally growled, roiling eyes flickering only briefly to take in the chain on his arm before snapping back to his enemy, as if the split second of inattention had given the arrogant youth the chance to attack.

Which could have been true, given their mastery of hand-to-hand combat. Few martial artists in the world could have acknowledged the twitch of the teen's eyes as an opportunity. Of those few capable of seeing it, only a very small fraction possessed the speed and skill to take advantage of the opening. Both boys were well aware that the minuscule disparity in their prowess had seen their fights ended by such a lapse.

"Like I know anything about what goes on around here before it bites me in the ass..." Ranma grumbled, finally dropping his guard as he turned his attention to the strange chains binding his arm. Pulling at the metal links in an attempt to remove them, his apprehension grew by the second as the resolute object refused to be dislodged. While he could slide the coiled chains all the way down to his wrist or all the way up to his elbow, an invisible force prevented them from moving beyond. Ranma twisted, falling on his back and placing his feet on the bunched coils as he tried to force it off. Though he felt no counterforce on his hand, the chains simply wouldn't move.

Likewise, Ryouga found with a perplexed rage that the ends of the chain could only lift an inch or so from his skin before totally resisting all attempts to rise further. He strained his powerful arms, wrenching the chains this way and that in an attempt to simply snap them off of his arm. Force that would have torn steel like diaphanous silk proved useless against the coiled mass.

He paused in his struggles, reaching for his inner harmony as he forced himself to abandon his rage. The receding heat brought clarity to his thought. He became one with the world, intimately aware of the hidden flaws in the same way he knew his own weaknesses. His eyes snapped open, thousands of pinpricks of light overlaying his vision.

Here, the spot in which the slightest pressure would shatter the rocks surrounding the koi pond and rain pebbles on the grass. There, a web of light which showed where he could turn the ground into a series of deep craters, the lightest flick of his finger displacing hundreds of pounds of dirt. Even Ranma's clothes shone with lights which would disintegrate them where they lay on Ranma's body. The fanged boy filed the idea in the back of his mind for another time.

His eyes fell to the chain on his right arm. Nothing. Every single link in the multitude of chains was flawless, granting them immunity to it's potent effect. The chain wrapped around Ranma's right arm likewise showed no pinpricks of light which would render it defenseless. The technique wasn't a way to remove the bonds.

"Oh, stop struggling, boy!" Happosai called, voice tinged with glee matched only by the deep creases in his face. He landed beside the pair and paused to examine the heir to his school, ignoring the slowly growing anger in the pair's every twitch. His plans hadn't quite worked out, but the impudent whelp had been caught by one of the Braids, at least. He even had a second pawn to control. Endless possibilities overwhelmed him and he randomly plucked one to confirm the magic worked. "Do me a favor and go steal Kasumi's panties for me, would you?"

For a horrible moment, both Ranma and Ryouga were gripped with an irresistible need to do precisely that. Both boys felt their traitorous legs move a step towards the edge of the roof when they mastered the unnatural urge, fighting off the magically induced control through a torrent of righteous anger. They stopped as one, the heel of their other foot barely rising from the roof before they turned to glare at the source of the order.

While neither boy could be described as intelligent, both could figure out the source of the chains if they were actually compelled to listen to the old pervert standing next to them. A rage which had nothing to do with one another finally overwhelmed their self control.

This bastard had nearly caused them to commit the unforgivable act of laying hands on the gentle soul who had always spoken almost nothing but gentle words. This freak had tried to steal their free will through otherworldly magic. Finally, in the most evil of crimes, the irredeemable scum had instilled a desire which could have resulted in them being barred from Kasumi's cooking.

Nothing but violence would satisfy their wrath.

In a bizarre display of synchronized martial arts mayhem, both boys lashed out with their feet, mirror images stomping the ancient lecher into the ground and grinding his face into the tiles until the old man was gagging on chunks of clay. Ryouga bent down before the ancient master could recover, holding him at arm's length with one hand, steely fingers wrapped around weathered neck. Ranma grinned at Ryouga in a rare display of camaraderie.

"You can do the honors, Ryouga," Ranma said, accepting the stunned old man and holding him lightly by the scruff of his shirt. Ryouga bent low, left leg balancing while his right leg swept back, then lashed out at the stunned old man. The kick struck with a thud which echoed across the skyline, sending the old pervert up to kiss the clouds before he disappeared into the distance.

Ranma raised his forearm, rattling the chains. "Now we've gotta figure out what the heck these things are."

Without a further word, the pigtailed young man then jumped off the roof, intent on the Cat Café. Halfway through Ranma's first leap, the Lost Boy was tugged sharply from his position by the chains on his right arm. He stumbled for two paces before getting his foot down, planting himself firmly and refusing to allow the invisible pull to move him another inch.

At the same time Ranma's arm was caught in an unseen first, right snapping out behind him then stubbornly halting his lateral momentum, his body swinging parallel to the ground before gravity reasserted her inexorable claim, pulling the wide-eyed fighter to the ground. A grunt and a loud thud punctuated the abrupt end which left the dazed young man staring up at the sky.

"Damn it, what the hell was that?" Ryouga demanded, leaping to the ground next to his sprawled rival, kneeling to grab the pigtailed boy by his braided locks and haul him to his feet. He gestured wildly, trying to indicate that invisible push in vain before giving up in frustration. Brown eyes bored stonily into slightly-concussed blue. "Why was I yanked all of a sudden!?"

"You're pretty thick if you think I've got anything more about this than you!" Ranma retorted, slapping Ryouga's wrist and breaking the grip on his shirt. With a disgruntled huff he tugged the wrinkles out of the red silk, examining the chains around his forearm only after the indignity to his clothes had been reversed. He didn't blink as he rattled the links, thinking. Clearly whatever had happened had something to do with the chains. He gestured to his left. "Okay, you stay here. I'm going to walk over that way."

As Ranma walked he noted a slight resistance, but it was nothing he would have noticed unless he was focusing on his right arm. When he got thirty feet away from Ryouga, the resistance increased to the point where the only way he could continue was by dragging his unintentional partner along with him, straining against the air as if he were actually shoving Ryouga from behind. He stopped, holding his arm out and leaning slightly, rotating the limb this way and that as he tried to feel for any weakness or difference. Thirty feet behind, Ryouga's arm mimicked the moves in a rough, jerky manner.

It then occurred to the yellow-clad boy that if Ranma could force his arm to move, the reverse was also true. He firmly planted his feet and leaned back just a bit, Ranma unconsciously leaning forward to compensate. Tension hummed in the pull of the magic joining them. Ryouga grinned, then yanked his arm back with all of his impressive strength. His arm quickly snapped back.

Thirty feet away, Ranma punch himself in the face with strength he knew he could never muster himself, stars flashing in his eyes as he wondered what the hell had happened. The chuckling of the fanged boy behind him told him all he needed to know.

"What'd you do that for!?" Ranma demanded, spinning in place to toss a glare across the distance, getting only an evil grin in response. The pigtailed boy scowled, frustration prodding him to hurl himself at the cause of his throbbing nose, getting in a good kick which tossed the unprepared Lost Boy in the air.

"What are you two fighting about now?" Akane spat from the porch, her presence completely unnoticed to the duo until that moment.

Time seemed to slow for Ryouga as he realized he was headed for the koi pond, as Akane's eyes tracing his graceless arc through the air. Ranma seemed to realize the problem as well as Ryouga's body briefly rose up, showing the pool of water which lay beyond. He tried to race forward to help, but knew he was moving too slowly.

Ryouga tried to twist out of the way, to redirect his flight, but he lacked the mastery of mid-air combat which was the Saotome specialty. He landed in the water as time froze, shutting his eyes and cringing as he prepared for death in the form of a mallet. Ryouga dreaded the coming fury more than he'd ever feared Saffron or Lime.

He waited, holding his breath. Death never came.

"Honestly Ranma, now Ryouga's wet! It's a good thing he doesn't have a Jusenkyou curse!" Akane declared, shooting her fiancé a dirty look.

"I don't have a Jusenkyou curse?" Ryouga muttered to himself, finally daring to spread his eyelids, watching Akane spin and walk away as a soul cleansing wave of relief washed away the last traces of mortal terror, quickly igniting a fierce joy in his heart. He grinned to himself, reveling in the alien sensation of cold water soaking his human body as he jumped to his feet, throwing his arms wide. "I don't have a Jusenkyou curse!"

"We're cured!?" Ranma exclaimed, running and jumping into the koi pond, ignoring the dirty look the fish gave their unwelcome, oft-visiting house guest. These days he almost always remembered to scoop any of the residents back into their home before their flops and gasps turned feeble. Ranma likewise reveled in the sensation of cold water, as it washed over him completely, running down in rivulets over the curve of her breasts. Ranma glared down at her bustline, as if the hate in the look could squish the soft mounds flat. "Ah, man! Why only pork breath!?"

"Shut up, Ranma!" Ryouga yelled, slugging the diminutive red-head out of the pond before stepping out himself. He grinned as he peered down at his cold, human body. No more random transformations. No more being a potential meal ticket for hungry animals or people. No more defenseless piglet haunting the clouds and puddles and myriad other sources of cold liquids! He stood in frank disbelief, wondering why fortune finally smiled his way.

"Alright, let's go see the old ghoul," Ranma finally grumbled, having retrieved the brass tea kettle Kasumi always kept warm from the it's place in the kitchen. She poured the heated water over her head, smiling as she felt the change return her to her male form and regained the ability to look her rival levelly in the eyes.

No doubt the old woman would be able to help out with the problem.

Cologne only spent a few minutes humming and muttering soft Mandarin to herself after Ranma and Ryouga arrived at her restaurant, her eyes suddenly doubling in size before she pogo-bounced up the stairs clasping the head of her cane. She returned with an open book, which she dropped on an unoccupied table with a thud as she faced the blue-eyed youth.

"Son-in-law, it would appear you are indeed in some trouble this time," Cologne concluded, warily glancing at the chains on Ranma and Ryouga's arms. She tapped it with the narrow point of her staff, as if touching the magical restraints with her bare hands would soil her. "Those two chains are meant to work in tandem against one foe, putting the victim totally under the spell caster's control."

"I noticed that we started to do something Happosai wanted us to do after the chains wrapped around our arms," Ryouga noted, subdued. So far, Cologne had only confirmed their suspicions, not granted them any new information. Ryouga gestured to the chain on his right arm. "I've got a question, Granny. How come when Ranma gets splashed he changes, but I get to stay as a human?"

"A good question, but simply answered," She gestured to Ranma and flung a glass of cold water in the boy's face, examining him as he lost about six inches of his height and gained significant mass on her chest, her black hair shimmering into a familiar vibrant red. Ranma sputtered as she glared at the old woman. "As you can see, Son-in-law here doesn't change his form, just his gender. The spell on these chains probably allows it because he still has the arm in that form. With you..."

"He's got no arms, so the chains wouldn't have anywhere to go," Ranma finished, examining her own bonds. She shrugged, dropping her right arm. "So what do we gotta do to get these damned things off?"

"Again, it should be simple. Just get the one who cast the spell to use the appropriate counter-spell on the chains and they should drop right off your arms. Though where could that old fool have acquired Yuki-onna's Braids at all?" Cologne's gaze was curious as she examined the gold and platinum chains binding the two foes together. "I was given to understand she hasn't been seen in this world for over two hundred years."

"Probably stole it from her!" Ranma spat, glaring out the door. He shrugged, noting Cologne was nodding. "It's not really a surprise. He seem to steal a lot of magical junk."

"So, all we have to do is get Happosai to use the counter-spell and it will free us?" Ryouga asked, cracking his knuckles eagerly as he considered the thought. Pounding on the old bastard was going to be almost as fun as pounding on Ranma. "We should be able to beat it out of him no problem."

"Well, I wish you boys luck," Cologne finished, giving their arms one last look before beginning to pogo over to the kitchen. She paused on her second bounce, looking back over her shoulder to take in both boys with a measured look. "Keep in mind that if you don't get the counter-spell off Happosai, you two may very well be stuck that way."

"Stuck with bacon breath forever?" Ranma muttered, glaring at his rival with a scowl. He scratched his chin, considering. "I've been stuck with him for an hour and I'm annoyed."

"Like you're any better, Ranma!" Ryouga countered, poking a finger into the pigtailed boy's chest. He then smirked. "The only bright side to this is I get to make sure you can't take advantage of poor Akane's trust!"

"Shut up, P-chan!" Ranma growled. He moved as if to strike his rival before stopping, almost shuddering as he mastered the urge to start another fight. Finally he grinned. "Look, we're stuck like this and neither of us especially like it. Either we work together, or we get to stay together forever. I'll kick your ass when these chains are off!"

Ranma extended his unchained hand.

"Fine, Ranma," Ryouga admitted, taking Ranma's hand with his own unchained hand and squeezing. Hard. Ranma and Ryouga stayed locked that way for a moment, neither giving ground as they crushed the air between their fists. Ranma mastered the urge to wince as the grip continued until finally the clasp ended. Ryouga smirked. "Though I'm going to be the one to win when these chains are off!"

"Come on!" Ranma said, leading Ryouga out of the restaurant. They both jumped up to the rooftops, eyes scanning for the signs of Happosai's daily rampage among Nerima's young women.

They both had a pervert to beat.

Author's Notes

For this one, I decided to pair up Ranma and Ryouga like this so that I could force them to work together. I blatantly stole the idea of using Yuki-onna from Krista Perry, but more so that I could do something a little different. Besides, I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on using Yuki-onna in Ranma fanfiction by now.

It's been ten years since Hearts of Ice debuted, after all. ;)

I dunno how long I'm gonna stretch this out, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be longer than Loss, Hope, and Redemption. I've already got about ten chapters outlined, and that doesn't even cover the full story by any stretch of the imagination.

Author's Notes (Revision)

This revision resulted in a jump from 2855 words to a meatier 4391. The change didn't really entail much new content, though many sequences were expanded and other portions which felt awkward were rewritten for clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 2

≈

"Sweeto!" Happosai's battle cry gave the girls only moments notice before he was among them, quick, agile hands copping feels and removing the smothering garments the young ladies were forced to wear. His bag quickly grew in size as he rampaged through the girls on their gym period, grinning as he stood on the wall of the school.

Life was good. While his plans this morning had gone more than slightly awry, it was a temporary setback at best. He had plenty more tricks up his sleeve to make Genma's upstart son more pliable as a student, so it was only a matter of time before the skills he possessed would be passed on to the newest generation.

"Now, where did you get Yuki-onna's Braids?" Cologne's voice asked from his left, and Happosai turned to face the woman who'd haunted him since he'd been a wet-nosed young punk. He grinned.

"Just something I happened to have laying around," Happosai dismissed, waving his hand. He hopped away from the wall, consequently avoiding the hail of improvised weapons thrown by Furinkan's female gym class.

"Well, it's certainly caused quite the problem," Cologne admitted as she shadowed his leap, alighted on a nearby roof next to him. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the man responsible for most of the trouble in her life. "Those two young boys are quite irritated with you. A side effect of your little spell is that they're forced to stay together by the magic in the chains. Weren't you aware of that?"

"I'm not sure I care," Happosai shrugged, lighting his pipe as he reclined on his newest bag of treasures. He gestured to Cologne with a dark smile. "The upstart whelp isn't strong enough to take me on yet."

"You sound so certain of that," Cologne mused, gesturing down a road to where Ranma and Ryouga were bounding towards them. Even at this distance, Cologne could make out the grim determination on both boys' faces as they closed with their target. "Well, you're going to find out shortly, Happi."

The old pervert glared in their direction, taking another drag of tobacco from his pipe. So, he'd have to deal with both of them. That wasn't going to be a problem.

≈

"Ryouga, I'll go high! You take him from below!" Ranma bellowed as he and Ryouga raced along the street next to the canal, already forming a plan which would allow them to quickly and efficiently take down Happosai. The Lost Boy grimaced at taking orders from his rival but saw nothing wrong with the plan. He charged forward with even more speed. Ranma thrust his feet below him, aiming for the rooftops so he could get the height he needed to attack the old lecher from above.

Several things happened as he jumped:

Ryouga scarcely felt the tug as Ranma reached the apex of what the chain around his right arm would allow, cutting short any possibility of gaining the rooftop, let alone attacking Happosai from above. As Ranma realized this, Ryouga's increased speed jerked Ranma forward as they again reached the distance limit, causing Ranma to tumble along the ground past a startled Ryouga. His forward momentum was cut brutally short as he plowed noisily into a dumpster.

Ryouga continued running in a daze, trying to process the events which had just occurred. His own speed was cut down to a lurching stop a few steps later as he reached his limit away from a groaning Ranma, who was once again slammed into the dumpster with bone-jarring force. Ryouga found himself stunned and lying on the ground trying to figure out what had just happened, still confused about how Ranma had been bouncing along the ground ahead of him.

"Impressive boys, impressive. I'm just wondering... What did that dumpster ever do to you?" Happosai pointed at the damaged trash receptacle, which now showcased an impressive pair of dents.

"Shut up, you old goat," Ranma growled, stumbling to his feet and shaking off the impressive blows he'd just been dealt. He pointed at the ancient pervert. "Just get rid of these damned chains already!"

"Go jump in the canal!" Happosai retorted, grinning to himself as he saw Ranma take two steps to do just that before stopping, instead intensifying his glare towards the Grand Master of his school. Happosai tapped the ashes out of his pipe, his gaze darting from Ranma to Ryouga and back. "Do you two youngsters really think you can handle me?"

"Die, old man!" Ryouga responded, charging at Happosai with his umbrella. Ranma, prepared for his partner's reckless charge, managed to avoid slamming into the dumpster for a third time by flipping over it and providing back-up.

Happosai dodged a thrust of Ryouga's umbrella, only to be forced to jump and twist out of the way of Ranma's follow up flying leap. Ryouga's follow up roundhouse tagged the diminutive lecher, and he was finally hit solidly by hundreds of punches at Amaguriken speeds as Ranma regained his footing. Stunned, Happosai lashed out with his pipe, sending Ranma skittering across the pavement. Ryouga's follow up punch was spoiled as Ranma's distance increased to it's limit, pulling him at the same speed. Ranma, then Ryouga crashed into the fence separating the street from the canal, twisting the fencing and causing it to dip out over the water.

"Damn it, Ranma! I nearly had him until you got hit!" Ryouga sneered, pulling himself up right thanks to a broken piece of the fence jutting out in front of him. Ranma merely scowled as he pulled his trapped foot out of where it had punched through the linked chain of the fence.

"Look bacon bits, we can't afford to get in each other's way here," Ranma said, brushing the dust off of his clothes. "The old perv's too good for us to screw up."

"Then stop screwing up, Ranma!" Ryouga yelled, once again charging Happosai. Ranma groaned and ran, keeping pace with the bandanna-clad boy as they once again raced towards their foe. Ranma stopped short of their target, letting loose a point blank Moko Takabisha which blazed right by Ryouga's head to strike Happosai squarely in the face.

Stunned, his eyes came into focus to find Ryouga driving in a right cross which promised to hurt if it connected.

"Stop!" Happosai pleaded, grinning as Ryouga's fist instantly halted in mid-strike. Too busy gloating, Happosai was unable to see Ranma's descending foot until it had already snapped across his forehead, sending him tumbling back into a property wall.

"Ryouga, even if he tries to control us with the chains, his commands don't work if we can't do anything about 'em! Use your bandannas!" Ranma launched himself into a small leap, shattering the wall Happosai had been slumped against as the old man rolled underneath his heir.

Ryouga nodded to himself, filling the air with whirling black and yellow cloth which forced the old pervert to dance wildly. Ranma recovered from his missed strike, launching some chi blasts of his own towards Happosai, creating a crossfire the old master was hard pressed to escape, let alone avoid. Cries to stop went largely unheeded, the projectiles already in the air by the time his cries reached the boys' ears.

One of Ryouga's razor-like bandannas finally cut through Happosai's twisting defense, causing the old master to twist into one of Ranma's chi blasts, rocketing the old man towards the Lost Boy. The fanged boy grinned as he drove his umbrella directly into Happosai's body, almost feeling pity at the crunch the move caused as he drove his foe towards Ranma. Ranma slammed the old man into the ground, allowing Ryouga to follow up with another strike which pushed the old man further into the ground.

"Alright old man, talk!" Ranma growled, as Ryouga twisted the umbrella a bit, grinding the old man against the crushed pavement. He flailed, cried, and pleaded for the boys to let him up before realizing that the force keeping him pinned to the ground was not Ryouga's easily-influenced strength, but instead that ludicrously heavy umbrella and his own lack of leverage.

"Fine, boys... You got me, this time. Those two chains are Yuki-onna's braids," Happosai admitted, gesturing to the chain on Ranma's right arm. "They're the magic of Yuki-onna herself, and quite hard to break. They usually give the caster of the binding spell total control over the subject, but that appears to have failed."

"We don't care about that! Just tell us how to get these damned things off!" Ryouga yelled, kicking the old man for good measure. He'd been attached to Ranma for nearly an hour and already it was getting tiresome.

"I don't know how," Happosai said, wincing as Ranma and Ryouga's eyes both darkened. He raised a finger to his chin, scratching as he narrowed his eyes in thought. "In fact, you two might just be stuck that way unless you can find another way of getting them off!"

"WHAT!?" Both boys screamed simultaneously, staring down at the diminutive pervert with incredulity. While Ryouga contented himself to growling and pressing the old man into the ground with his umbrella, Ranma searched for his voice, eventually finding it.

"No way! How the hell did you plan to get them off of me, then!?" Ranma demanded, leaning down and grabbing the front of the old man's shirt.

"I should be able to just tell them to come off," Happosai admitted, then shrugged. "Unfortunately, it takes a minute or two for the chains to unravel and the commands I've been giving you last for the less than a second. Here, I'll even show you! Take off your chains, boys!"

To the boys' growing horror, they discovered he was right. At his words, both ends of the chain on each of their arms twitched away from before settling back down into place. Ranma ignored Happosai at that point, grasping his chain and tugging it, trying to take the chains off but finding them just as irremovable.

"Then what do we need you for?" Ryouga growled, removing his umbrella as he considered the idea of spending the rest of his life bound to Ranma. His mood sunk as he considered the idea of having to deal with Ranma's various fiancées. It hit rock bottom and began to dig as he thought about having to watch Ranma and Akane together for the rest of his life. He pointed one hand at Happosai. "Shi Shi Hokodan!"

The pervert was blasted directly into the ground, unconscious.

"Come on, Ryouga. Let's go talk to the old ghoul again," Ranma finally sighed with grim determination as he scowled down at the limp pervert. "She might know something else we can try."

≈

"So you're back, Son-in-law," Cologne noted as Ranma entered the Cat Café, poking her head out of the kitchen. She smiled, hopping out of the kitchen and coming to rest on a nearby table as she examined the boys. "And I see you still have those chains on you. Happosai chose not to release you?"

"More like he couldn't," Ranma snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. He rattled the chain on his arm. "According to what he told us, he should be able to just tell us to take off the chains for 'em to stop working. But because we're only momentarily effected by his orders, the chains don't finish coming off before the order gets ignored."

"I see," Cologne stated, shaking her head. Of course the fool had messed things up. It was par for the course as far as the old wretch was concerned.

"Isn't there anything you can do, Granny?" Ryouga pleaded, waving a hand towards Ranma. "I don't want to get stuck with this jerk the rest of my life!"

"Like I want it either," Ranma snorted, turning his head away from his rival.

"I suppose the only way for you to remove those chains would be to journey to the home of the one who crafted them," Cologne finally said. She jabbed the point of her staff at the chain on Ryouga's arm. "I can open the way to Yuki-onna's domain easily enough... Though it will be up to the two of you to convince her to take the chains off."

"Great! Let's get going, then!" Ranma cheered, pushing off the wall as he walked to the table where Cologne stood.

"Not so fast, Son-in-law," Cologne countered. "The magic I'll need to work to open the way is powerful, crossing not just distance but into another plane of existence. It will take a week for me to gather the necessary materials and make the preparations for the spell."

"I have to spend a week with him??" Ryouga demanded, his stomach flopping as he considered the idea of having to endure the pigtailed boy's presence for a solid week. Ranma's face froze as a similar realization overcame him as well.

"One week," Cologne confirmed. She couldn't help but smile to herself.

The two boys turned to face one another. Their truce had held for an hour and a half... and now they had at least one more week to spend together.

Horror began to fill them in earnest...

≈

Author's Notes

Hooray, another chapter! Don't expect a third one TOO quickly, though. I'm forcing myself to follow my outline for this story, rather than rush it to the parts I'm itching to write as I did with LH&R. I think I've learned a major lesson about pacing from that, so I might not make the same mistakes this time.

All new ones, though... Those are a different matter. I'll try and avoid as many new mistakes as I can. No promises, but I'll try.

For example... Were this LH&R, I'd have probably skipped over the one-week in a rush to get to Yuki-onna's domain. Instead, I think I'll explore some of the delicious opportunities brought up by chaining Ranma and Ryouga together for a week while they've got no clear goal but marking down time. evil laugh


	3. Chapter 3

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 3

≈

Explaining everything was, of course, less than simple. While Ryouga was content to sit back and let Ranma do all the talking at the Tendou's place, the fact of the matter was that Ranma had saddled them with another house guest and would shortly be leaving for an unknown amount of time.

While it was pretty much par for the course, it was still disheartening.

"So... You have to cross an interdimensional border, survive in a demon's home, and then convince the demon to take her magical chains off of you. Is that right?" Nabiki asked, the corner of her lips twitching into a smile.

"Aren't you worried about them, Nabiki?" Akane asked, scowling at her older sister.

"Not at all, Akane," Nabiki countered, gesturing towards where Ranma sat at the table, managing to take in Ryouga with the gesture as well. "My only question now is whether or not Ranma's newest fiancée has a contract with Genma or if he's going to snag her all by himself... and what sort of odds I should make for each."

"Not funny, Nabiki," Ranma scowled, crossing his arms. He paused for a moment as realization struck, then he swiveled his head to look at his father as he played shougi with Soun. "Yo, old man. You didn't promise me to Yuki-onna, did you?"

"Of course not, Ranma!" Genma sputtered, shooting a glare at his son. He missed Soun's lightning fast hands as they shifted a pair of pieces, dramatically swinging the game into his favor. "I've never even met her!"

"Right, so you didn't get the chance," Ranma concluded, turning back to Nabiki. He grinned. "Well, that answers one question."

Ryouga yawned as he glanced outside, taking in the setting sun, content to ignore the random conversation of the Tendou family and their guests. Whether or not he said anything, time would pass at the same pace. While he was often an angry person, he had learned patience in the many journeys he'd taken.

He stood, resolving to find a nice, quiet place to have a nap.

≈

Ryouga awoke with a start, a stabbing pain in his gut telling him it was time to use the washroom. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as they took in his surroundings. Absent a spare room to sleep in, Ryouga had simply walked around the corner of the impressive porch surrounding the Tendou Dojo and leaned against the wall, opting to fall asleep right there. He knew he had to have been asleep for several hours, judging by the lack of activity in the house and the darkness in the sky overhead.

With no small amount of urgency, he moved through the house, searching every door. Akane's room, from which Ryouga backed out silently, his cheeks ablaze. The guest room, curiously holding only Genma. Nabiki's room. Akane's room _again_. The kitchen. Kasumi's room. Until finally, he found the washroom.

He rushed forward, scarcely noting the slight tug on his chained arm as he moved to the toilet.

Ranma, still asleep on the peak of the roof after climbing out to watch the stars, felt a slight tug as well. It didn't wake the pigtailed boy. It did, however, cause him to slowly start to roll down the roof towards the edge. After the third roll, he woke up, scarcely comprehending his situation. As he reached the fifth roll, he realized what was going on.

He'd also hit the edge of the roof and felt nothing under him but air. Panic hit and he lashed out an arm to grab the roof. His body swung towards a window as the roof broke, propelling the pigtailed boy through. With a crash of glass and a startled cry, he landed face-first on something soft and pliable.

The commotion brought a flurry of movement and a light flickered on, disorienting Ranma's sleep-addled mind even more and momentarily blinding him.

"Ranma, what do you think you're doing!" Akane's voice demanded. Ranma froze, and his eyes flickered from his tomboy fiancée to the face of her older sister. Nabiki looked less than amused to be awake, and having Ranma's face buried in her cleavage and her room covered in glass was no doubt further complicating matters. Ranma's eyes flitted back to the girl in the doorway.

Flushing the toilet and preparing to pull up his pants, Ryouga was in no position to resist as a powerful force jerked his arm through one of the washroom walls, his body following. And so it was that Ryouga nearly crashed into Kasumi as he was hurled through several walls, only to come to a bone-jarring stop as he struck the Tendou Dojo's property wall.

A short distance beyond the wall, Ryouga heard a masculine scream of pain, and then a sharp meaty thud as a heavy object hit something solid. Kasumi peered through the several holes in her home, her hand traveling to her mouth in concern as she observed Ryouga's sprawled form. She picked up his pants from where they were hanging from a jagged edge of the wall.

"These will need to be mended, Ryouga-kun," Kasumi commented, disappearing further into the house.

Ryouga groaned. He hadn't even been here a day yet.

≈

The following day proved no better. Forced to follow Ranma in his day to day life, Ryouga found himself caught in the crossfire, more often than not. Kunou's strikes, while easy to dodge, actually hurt a bit when Ryouga accidentally caught one by being pulled off his feet and into the bokken's path by one of Ranma's acrobatic dodges.

Likewise, Ryouga found himself forced to come to Ranma's aid in a battle against Mousse. The Chinese boy's vision was so poor that he was unable to differentiate between his target and his target's unwilling partner. After the third chain-propelled spike thudded into Ryouga's flesh and was pulled out with a grunt of annoyance, Ryouga joined in the battle with Ranma to vent his frustrations with the myopic boy and his lack of aim.

After Kunou's third attack on Ranma, the second of which to result in Ryouga feeling the sting of Kunou's blade, the bandanna-clad boy joined with Ranma in hitting Kunou whenever he showed up. When the kendoist attacked as they left the school and Ryouga thudded him over the clock tower with his umbrella, the Lost Boy grimly reflected it was sort of like playing a school-wide game of Whack-A-Mole.

It was not so much a walk back to the Tendou Dojo as it was an all-you-can-eat gauntlet. Stopping in at the Ucchan, Ryouga was treated to a few free okonomiyaki from his sometime partner-in-crime as Ranma told her the details of what had happened. It was in the middle of that conversation that Tsubasa surprised Ranma by attacking him and surprised Ryouga by being the stool on which he was seated. The cross-dressing stool-boy was evicted from the restaurant with the help of Ukyou's spatula.

Mousse, injured and wearing a cast, somehow managed to attack the pair of boys as they walked into the Cat Café. Ryouga threw himself flat against the ground as Ranma threw himself up onto the ceiling. Mousse, thinking his targets had disappeared, ran out into the street to chase them. A free bowl of ramen was served to the pair as they further discussed the situation with Cologne, ignoring the random cries of confused, accosted pedestrians in the street.

Ranma sighed in resignation and Ryouga groaned upon learning that the spell would work to transport only the two of them. They would be forced to rely on one another instead of bringing along allies. Troublesome as the Nerima Wrecking Crew were, both boys knew that their associates were ready, willing, and able to go up against whatever mythical creature needed a beating or three.

Sometime later the pair finally arrived at the Tendou Dojo. Both boys sighed in relief. Rest. Relaxation. Free from the torment of the day.

Akane had cooked dinner.

It _wasn't _curry.

For a moment, Ryouga shared with his rival a look of panic. No longer in love with Akane, he could admit, to himself if not to her, that her cooking was terrible. It was with a grim smile that he watched Ranma sit down at the table and poke the "food" with his chopsticks.

She was calling it yakitori and wild rice. He saw no trace of the skewers and wouldn't have initially guessed that the brown sludge flecked with black resembled anything to come out of a rice cooker. Ranma gulped, despite not yet consuming anything in front of him.

"Well?" Akane's vocalization was not a question, Ryouga noted idly. It was a naked threat of violence delivered in the form of a single word. He'd met megalomaniacs who, at their best, sounded less menacing. With a sigh not unlike the sigh of someone marching to war, Ranma broke free a piece of the "yakitori" and brought it to his mouth, chewing it with noisy crunches.

The pigtailed boy tried to swallow but failed, as if his stomach sensed the approaching foreign invader and became bound and determined not to suffer it's presence. His blue eyes widened as Akane's hazel eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming.

Violence ensued.

Ranma, spared the greater pain, felt like weeping for joy as he covertly allowed the offending chunks of... something to dribble from his mouth, over the side of the porch.

"Ryouga, would you like to try some? I know you like my cooking." Akane's voice was airy, light, and care-free. Ryouga knew he was powerless before it. He felt like weeping: This feeling was not inspired by joy. He knelt at the table, eyeing the food and wondering if perhaps the "rice" was the lesser of two evils.

There were six more days to go before the portal would be ready. A tear came to Ryouga's eye, though he lied and told Akane it was because of the hot sauce she'd added to the rice.

≈

The following days proved just as punishing. The second day it was Kodachi, attacking Ranma's girl form, instead of Mousse. The third day saw Shampoo doggedly pursuing Ranma across the Nerima skyline as the pair left school, the pigtailed boy unable to fully escape due to Ryouga's presence.

The fourth day saw them lost. Low on sleep thanks to a late night visit from Kodachi and a busy day at school thanks to Hinako-sensei's dogged determinate to teach, Ranma simply followed Ryouga on the way home. Ranma didn't think to question the direction or length of their travel until she looked up to find herself in the Tokyo Tower. That sparked a lengthy brawl which saw the observation deck requiring several days of repair and several new windows.

Ranma, in her anger, forgot they were bound together with magic and discovered right alongside Ryouga that the elevator, while slower, was still preferable to falling. Even after the fight had ended, Ryouga was certain Ranma didn't trust his cries that it wasn't his fault and noted that the pigtailed girl was far more cautious when they were traveling.

The fifth day proved nearly as exciting, with Tarou's visit as he searched for Happosai. Ranma was unable to keep himself from taunting the oddly-named young man, which provoked a fight which saw both Ranma and Ryouga battered and bruised, but victorious.

The sixth day proved quiet, though Ryouga noted this only seemed to make his rival even more high strung. After several days of following Ranma's footsteps, he could appreciate the sentiment. It was almost a relief after learning that Kunou was absent and Mousse was still injured that Happosai tried to raid the girls' locker rooms sometime after lunch. In light of their situation, pounding on the old pervert was especially cathartic.

The seventh day saw the sun rise in a cloudless sky. Ranma and Ryouga exchanged glances as they left the Tendou Dojo, long before even Kasumi awoke. Today was the day Cologne would have the portal ready for them.

≈

"Looks like the old prune has the place closed today," Ranma noted. He approached the restaurant, Ryouga trailing a half-step behind.

"Probably doesn't want to accidentally send one of her regulars to a demon's world," Ryouga commented dryly, pausing at the door. He finally pushed it open, allowing the duo to slip into the Cat Café.

Instead of tables and chairs, the entire center of the customer's area of the café was dominated by a large glowing blue square. Immediately outside the square was a circle filled with hundreds of important looking squiggles. Ryouga thought they had to mean something important.

"Good. You're here," Cologne noted, lifting her gaze from a dusty tome spread out on a table. She gestured with one hand towards the glowing square. "That should take you where you need to go. Unfortunately, the spell is keyed to the Braids, and will end when you step through. You will have to make your own way back."

"Wait a minute: Should?" Ranma questioned, glaring at the blue square and scowling.

"Well, you won't know for sure until you step through, Son-in-law. I've keyed the portal to the creator of your bonds. Given that they're Yuki-Onna's, this portal should take you to her realm." Cologne grinned. Ryouga felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "I could be wrong, of course."

Exchanging glances, the pair stepped through the portal. A flash of light blinded them, and a roar shook them, deafened them. They felt a pull, as if they were being pulled in a thousand directions at once. Later, they wouldn't be able to tell who started screaming first: They only knew that they both were.

Then it was over. Ranma collapsed to his knees and Ryouga leaned against the wall of the cave. In the distance, they could barely make out the bright light of day as it shined through the cave entrance.

≈

Author's Notes

Well, another chapter down. My apologies. I had a case of writer's block. No, it wasn't Lady Shinimegami's fault this time. Sorry for the delay. The feel I'm going for here is slightly more comedic than LH&R. I hope I'm not failing at that _too _badly. More on the way soonish. I'm more or less back on track, now.


	4. Chapter 4

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 4

The instant the boys left the cave, they knew they would regret not bringing cold weather gear. A sharp wind scoured an icy desert, barren plain with a howl they felt reverberate deep in their chests. Save for small clusters of boulders, nothing interrupted the desolate view of snow and ice, which spread unchanging from horizon to horizon. Above, a moon shone brightly in a starless sky, bathing the landscape in a pale light which cast inky black shadows.

Ryouga set his pack down, digging through it for anything which might help him ward off the chill. His desert cloak was the only thing he found, and Ryouga sighed glumly. Meant to ward off the sandstorms he occasionally found himself walking through, it would do little to keep him warm, though it might take the edge off the wind. The Lost Boy looked up to see Ranma scowling as he pulled on his Chinese Military jacket, and smiled a bit at the thought that the pigtailed wonder was even less prepared than he.

"So... which way?" Ranma asked, glancing around the tundra in vain for a landmark. His eyes finally widened as he spotted a twinkle in the distance. "Look, over there!"

"Could be anything," Ryouga muttered as he squinted his eyes. He took a deep breath and shrugged. "Let's go. It's not like there's anything else."

Ranma flashed him a rare grin of camaraderie, patting the fanged boy on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, man! In an hour, we'll have these chains off of our arms and we'll be back in Nerima!"

Over an hour later, Ranma's future as a fortune teller was dead and buried. Though they had not yet reached whatever it was that had been twinkling in the reflected moonlight, their hopes that it would be Yuki-onna's dwelling were dwindling. It had stopped shining nearly twenty minutes ago as the moon had traced a path in the sky, and only Ranma's gut feeling that they were still headed toward it drove them on as the weather slowly worsened, threatening a blizzard of epic proportions.

Hands and feet numb and their faces ablaze with the cold, they finally reached the object which had grabbed their attention. Proudly thrusting itself above the bitter landscape, a sharp, dagger-shaped boulder perched atop another rock which had tumbled to the ground. As high as it was, only the occasional icy rain would reach it, leaving it coated with a layer of solid ice nearly half a foot thick, proudly presenting a distorted reflection of everything around it.

Ryouga's fist shattered the ice and split the boulder in two, propelling the two halves away to scatter a small group of boulders with a cacophony of clacks and crunches. The fanged boy spun, grabbing his traveling companion by the front of his shirt.

"This is all your fault, Ranma!" Ryouga yelled, throwing his free hand out to point accusingly at the landscape. "Over an hour of this bitter cold for just another rock!"

"I should have known something was up when you agreed to come this way!" Ranma retorted, windmilling his arm to break the cloaked boy's grip. He took a step towards his involuntary companion, their noses almost touching. The roiling typhoon of Ranma's eyes met the avalanche of rock and mud in his partners.

Simultaneously, as if the act had been planned, they threw a chained fist at one another's face. As one, they deflected the attack with their other arm and followed up with a knee to the sternum. Ranma gasped and Ryouga grunted as their attacks separated the two foes, to hang motionless in the air as momentum fought magic before they dropped gracelessly to the ground, exactly thirty feet apart.

The wind howled as the opponents stood, sizing one another up. The first flakes of snow caressed their forms as they stalked in a circle, looking for any opening they could exploit, any weakness they could attack.

Ranma spotted one first. Or perhaps Ryouga merely feigned inattention to tempt his foe to action. Whatever the cause, the blue-eyed youth flowed across the space separating the pair, dropping to his knees just before he collided with his opponent, sliding across the ice as he spun in a vicious backhand aimed at his enemy's knees.

Ryouga spun into the attack, the backhand spinning into the space between his legs. The shaggy-haired young man brought his right knee up in a strike towards his opponent's face, jumping with his left leg to dodge Ranma's blow and add extra force. His eyes widened in surprise as the pigtailed-boy grinned, contorting his head and torso around the blow as he rose to a crouch, allowing their momentum to place him behind Ryouga and ready to strike.

Ryouga didn't bother trying to hide his groans as he felt a flurry of fists pummel his undefended back, mercifully cut short as the blows which sapped his strength pushed him from his attacker. He crashed to the ground, only rolling to his feet and slipping past or deflecting the attacks which followed him. A dozen years of martial arts training, now as much apart of his instincts as the need to breathe, were the thin line between him and defeat as his mind fought to catch up to the action.

Ranma's widened and with his one planted foot leaped up and over Ryouga, abandoning a leg sweep as Ryouga brushed off a flurry of jabs to his midsection to attempt a double-handed hammer blow. The Lost Boy's momentum continued the blow, shattering a boulder into thousands of sharp pebbles.

"You're sloppier than usual, P-chan," Ranma noted, landing gracefully a short distance away. His eyes danced with a feral excitement as Ryouga stood, the trembling of his rage throwing the pebbles in his cloak off in clattering waves. "Has all this cold frozen your brain, too? You're not even trying!"

"I'm going to destroy you for dragging me into this, Ranma!" The enraged youth bellowed, biting off the name which tasted like ashes in his mouth. A sickly green aura caressed the young man and everything around him, the snow caught in the gale fighting against the wind to escape the hostility.

"You ain't succeeded before, I don't see why this time'll be any different," Ranma muttered with a snort, his own brilliant yellow aura flashing around him and bathing the snow in an ever shifting symphony of jagged light.

Limbs strengthened by the chi now flowing their bodies, the boys clashed together in a stunning display of agility, dexterity, and raw power. Their movements could have been a perfectly choreographed dance, save for the occasional groan of pain as hardened knuckles, elbows, or feet struck unguarded flesh.

The second telling blow against Ryouga came from a slight miscalculation. He landed on a patch of ice, his feet sliding apart just enough to slow him from leaping back for a fraction of a second. In that minuscule span of time, the pigtailed boy exploited the opening to land a brutal right cross which spun his unfortunate around once before he collapsed to the ground.

Ranma's grin faded a little as Ryouga pushed himself to his feet, his endurance for punishment as undiminished as ever. The fanged boy's answering grin was as feral as Ranma's own.

"The circumstances of a fight are just as important as your foe, P-chan!" Ranma taunted above the howling gale whipping snow around the battling youths, his right index finger wagging as if scolding a misbehaving child. Ryouga felt the pounding of his heart in his temples as he glared at that finger, the rage driving him subsumed by the plan which sprang into his mind as a trio of gold links glinted in the moonlight.

Ranma tensed his legs and pounced, his arc carrying him high into the air. As he reached the apex of his leap, Ryouga grinned despite the sudden sting of hail on his skin. It was almost like Ranma knew of the plan and had done his best to walk into it. Holding his arm in front of him, the bandanna capped youth hurled himself back, his feet immediately finding purchase on the sturdy boulder behind. Ranma's eyes widened as he felt the slight tug on his right arm, and Ryouga savoured the self-reproach in his foe's eyes as they helplessly traveled over the platinum chain on his own arm.

Even as the pigtailed boy twisted in mid-air, as if to prevent what was coming Ryouga's powerful downward yank plucked Ranma from the path of his fall, launching him in a graceless flight towards his enemy. Ryouga scowled as he quickly realized Ranma would hit the ground before passing by him and threw himself to compensate, torquing his body and catching Ranma in the ribs with a powerful kick as they passed in the air.

Ranma grunted and then yelled to ward off the pain as first Ryouga's foot, then the ice covered ground battered his body. As he rolled to his feet his eyes instantly sought the tan cloak, and he warily tracked his opponent's movements as his hand probed the sharp pain in his left side. Not broken, but the flickering ember of pain flaring in time with the knives poking his side with each breath told him his ribs were angry with the punishment to which he was subjecting them.

Ryouga's back was complaining nearly as loudly, though he was doing his best to hide it. His kidneys were shouting dire implications about their retribution to his nervous system later, and his soon mumbled warnings that it would soon protest very loudly if he continued to contort it.

Pain clouding their minds, hail obscuring their vision, the icy chill of the tundra they found themselves lost in flaying their nerves, the pair prepared to launch themselves once more at one another in a brutal exchange of pain interspersed with an acrobatic ballet.

Thus, the abrupt end of the storm bringing an absolute silence broke their concentration, the only sound the last pitter-patter of the hail striking snow and ice.

"Explain yourselves," A voice demanded in a stern, emotionless whisper. Ranma felt a chill up his spine as he felt the malice in that voice, more terrible than Akane's most rage-drenched cry. Ryouga hunched his shoulders and bowed his head to stare at the ground, as if hoping that the source of that voice would somehow lose notice of him.

They turned to find a petite woman staring at them with eyes which glowed white, lacking anything to give the boys an impression of where she was looking, though the weight of that gaze left both with no doubt she was looking at them. The stark brilliance of her eyes was matched only by her hair, dangling to her ankles in unbound locks so luminous and bright they made the snow on the ground appear filthy by comparison. While she possessed the high cheekbones, full lips, narrow jaw and pointed chin to take her to a realm beyond beautiful, the flat line of her mouth and the lack of feeling or mercy in her eyes made the reality of her beauty incomprehensible to the stunned duo.

One hand gracefully rose, the sleeve of her jet black kimono pulling back only slightly to reveal half an alabaster forearm. Tapered fingers clenched into her palm, one finger pointed at the space between the pair, she repeated, "Explain yourselves."

The words were softer, quieter, a mere echo of the previous statement. The lack of volume, the caress of her voice as it fought the silence to gently brush their ears only increased the primal terror gibbering at their instincts.

Ranma and Ryouga both knew there would be no second echo. The thought of what this woman could do in it's stead prompted them to speak before the moment stretched an instant longer. The range of Ranma's voice fought against the depth of Ryouga's, turning their explanation into a discordant cacophony which slowly trailed off as the pair noticed the terrible woman's mouth slip into the merest shadow of a frown.

They stood silently, and Ranma flinched when the woman's eyes widened, as those two blazing white orbs noticed, for the first time, the chain on his arm. The boys straightened as the fear smothering them vanished, and knew then that their fear had not been natural.

Though when the woman spun and began to stride away, they stared. A rumble in the sky and the wind rising briefly to howl across the ice as it stabbed through their meager clothing prompted them to follow. As they did, they exchanged a quick glance, reading in the other's eyes the thought now in the center of their thoughts: Maybe some of the fear wasn't caused by the woman's magic.

As they followed this chilly lady through the frozen night, Ranma slowly learned a bit more respect for Ryouga's endurance. He knew the cloak couldn't be much better than his dark green wool coat at keeping out the wind. He also knew he would have succumbed to the bitter cold without the Soul of Ice. Ryouga had never learned the technique, yet he continued to match Ranma's pace step for step with no hint of a stumble or breath of complaint.

Though Ranma hadn't given much thought to what the woman's house would look like, too preoccupied with putting one foot in front of the other and throwing the whole of his being into the Soul of Ice to ward off the worst of the cold, so it was a surprise to stride out of a snow-blanketed forest to find himself face to face with a cozy wooden cottage. A rough stone foundation of split boulders mortared together supported felled tree trunks, two large windows shooting warm light across the veranda circling the building and casting two bright lances across the unbroken snow. Even more jarring to was the chimney rising from the roof, smoke trailing from it's opening promising an end to the chill gnawing on his bones.

As the trio mounted the steps, the woman spun in place as she reached the porch, freezing the boys in place as their feet touched the first step to the cottage's door. The fire dancing in bright blue irises surprised them even more, the blazing white light no longer turning her beautiful face into a vision of terror. She wore an open frown, as if the warmth of the cottage had melted the ice they'd seen in countenance when she'd first bade them to follow.

"Understand something, mortals," The woman growled in a tone as hot as her previous words had been cold. "You are the first humans to enter my domain without my permission for over a thousand years. The only reason I didn't leave you bickering children in the wastes to freeze is a desire to see my property returned to me. Put one toe out of line and I will personally ensure you spend an eternity feeling the cold displeasure of my realm without the numb relief of death!"

She spun, stalking across wooden planks to wrench open her door and enter her home. Exchanging identical looks of confusion, the boys mounted the steps and warily entered the cottage.

An enormous hearth dominated the wall to their right, nearly seven feet deep and twice that across. In the center of the fireplace a low blaze merrily danced, casting shifting shadows while being fueled by nothing at all. Three low, heavily cushioned chairs surrounded the fire. Two were identical, and one fashioned similarly, though the seat was a little more narrow and the back a little higher. Thick wool rugs, ranging from a dark green to a bright blue, combined with the dancing light to gave the impression that the floor was a churning pool of water. Opposite the fire a sturdy, well carved table stood in front of a long counter, six three-legged stools pushed in neatly underneath. On the far wall, two doors lined the left side, the second door tucked in neatly underneath thick stairs leading to the cottage's second floor.

Only a large Sony flatpanel TV and a large shelf of DVDs, faced by a comfortable-looking leather sofa, spoiled the rustic feel.

Sitting in one of the two identical arm chairs sat a dark-haired man, reading a thick book bound in what appeared to be leather. Nestled into the deep green fabric of the chair, the man could have passed for just another Japanese college student. Only the points of four blood-red horns and a decidedly dark red tinge to thoroughly tanned skin ruined the effect, vibrant red eyes alight with mischief as he brushed back an unruly lock of deep brown hair. He flashed the pair of boys a toothy grin marred only by sharp fangs, placing the thick tome on his lap on a nearby table as he got to his feet.

"Well, you two must be the cause of all that fuss outside. The weather here is sensitive to the emotions of the denizens, which is how the little lady upstairs knew you were here... You two must have been really going at it to cause a gale like that!" The man strode across the wool rugs, extending a hand towards Ranma. "The name's Maza'grameph. You can call me Maz if you like. Every body does. No point twisting your tongue trying to pronounce a name designed for a mouth full of fangs," he added, his grin briefly transforming into a smirk.

"Saotome Ranma," the pigtailed boy offered, warily shaking the dusky-skinned man's hand. The man's grip was surprisingly strong, and Ranma bit back a grunt as he felt sharp talons dig lightly into the back of his hand. After a second the constricting force ended, and the pigtailed boy fought the urge to rub his hand as the man's eyes flashed with glee.

"Hibiki Ryouga," the Lost Boy said as Maz offered his hand. The older man's grip could have crushed a boulder into gravel, and Ryouga met that strength with the same terrible power, feeling the tendons on his arm quiver. Maz's grin seemed strained for a moment, his eyes tightening as the mirth seemed to shrivel, before both broke the handshake at the same time.

"You must be a little bit cold. Why don't we sit by the fire until my wife decides to come down and deal with whatever she brought you here for," The boys followed the man to the trio of warm armchairs, being careful to take off their sodden outerwear and drape it over the thick mantle before sinking gratefully into the warm embrace of the soft green fabric. "Speaking of which, what in the name of Infernus brings a pair of mortals to a realm so cold it's only a hair's-breadth away from being an elemental plane?"

"The short version is we've got these on us," Ranma announced with a dour chuckle, pulling back his sleeve to show their host the chains hugging his forearm. Ryouga raised his forearm as well, though his gaze seemed to be lost in the fire, his attention as lost to the hypnotic dancing of the flames as he himself usually was. Ranma shrugged it off, focused more on the way the man's eyes narrowed.

"Those chains have a hint of my mother-in-law's essence in them," The man murmured, rubbing his chin with his knuckles as he leaned forward. He cocked his head as his eyes traced the chains criss-crossing Ranma's arm. "I get the sense though, that the chain on your friend's arm was meant to go on your left arm. The magic on his chain isn't working quite right, and it's fighting the magic binding itself to his arm to get to yours."

"Yeah, well... We were fighting when the old perv tried to put these on me," Ranma admitted with a grin. Turning to face the man directly, he gestured over his shoulder at Ryouga with a thumb. "Pig-boy here and I were both lining up to throw a punch when the chains tried to get me. His arm blocked mine."

"This old perv must have corrupted the spell, then," The man concluded. He pointed one finger at Ranma's face, the firelight reflecting off the talon at the end. "The spell, when used correctly, not only binds the subject unerringly, but also confers a multitude of blessings and protections. Boons that you both appear to lack almost entirely."

"Almost entirely?" Ranma groused, his agile mind already coming up with the one thing which had gone right. "Let me guess: Moody over there got some sort of protection from magic."

"Got it in one," Maz quipped, leaning back in his chair. He rested his elbows on the arm rests of the chair, twining his fingers together and resting his hands on his chest. "Of course, you both have a limited amount of immunity to magic thanks to the mere presence of the chains, though I wouldn't count on that to quell anything but the most primitive sort of magic."

Ranma then noticed something. Something important, vital to his being and generally at the forefront of his thoughts when he was dealing with magic. He sat in a comfortable arm chair, freezing water running in rivulets down his neck and torso. _He_ sat.

"At least it looks like my Jusenkyo curse ain't gonna be a problem," Ranma announced, a smile fighting it's way to his face and staying there. He patted his chest, enjoying the presence of a firm, flat surface instead of a something soft and... sensitive. "Things are looking up!"

"As long as you're here, at least," Maz noted with a chuckle. He lifted a hand to wave around the cabin. "Miyuki's realm is so far removed from the mortal plane that the magic of your curse doesn't have the power to enforce itself. Most of the other planes you could survive in are a lot closer. Probably close enough for the trigger to assert itself."

"Did you really have to tell the mortal my name?" A voice growled, and Ranma turned his head to see Yuki-onna standing behind their chairs, now wearing a pair of light pink flannel pajamas decorated with baby blue rabbits. Ranma blinked, wondering if he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming, but the clothes remained unchanged. The stern faced woman shot a look at Maz which should have destroyed him on the spot. A quick glance at Ryouga, now snoring softly with his head tilted back, showed Ranma how the fiery ice-woman wasn't noticed.

"An unintentional slip of the tongue, dearest," the man noted without a hint of contrition, his grin only serving to deepen the growling in the woman's throat. He didn't look sorry. Ranma was amazed that the demon could make a pout look smug. "It won't happen again."

"As sincere as my realm is warm," the noted, her lips quirking up into a smile. "You're lucky your charm hasn't faded, you Infernal imp. You get away with more impudence in a day than I've allowed anyone else to show in a lifetime."

"Of course I do. I'll get away with it as long as my roguish good looks and quick wit continue to melt the ice in your veins," Maz noted with a smile. He clenched his right hand into a fist, elbow planted on the armrest of his chair, lounging with all the languid grace of the most feral predator. "Since I'm the best looking spirit around and no other can match the dexterity of my tongue, you shall find yourself the victim of impudence until the end of time."

"No doubt," The woman murmured, using the opportunity to sit across her husband's lap and steal half of the backrest for herself, her lower back planted firmly at the top of the chair, a move her cushion protested only half-heartedly. Ranma noted for the first time that the fabric of the chair in which he sat was far less worn, almost like it had been bought years after it's duplicate sitting in front of the fire. He noted the stiffness of the little-used springs in the cushions and guessed that the chair he sat in saw little use.

The woman, Miyuki, certainly didn't seem to care he was sitting in her chair. She was too busy exchanging quite, giggle-filled bickers with the man squirming underneath her. Ranma licked his lips, wanting to ask for more information but not wanting to interrupt.

Just as he was about to quietly broach the silence, the slam of a door irrevocably shattered it, the sound simple the first rumble of thunder before a massive storm as the chill wind invaded the warmth of the house.

"All I ask is that you guys not fight for one hour a day! Just an hour! You've got twenty three hours surrounding that time to bicker all you like! Cheng is just an old chinese ghost, he can't take a full snowstorm! He had to escape back to the plane of his afterlife to avoid obliteration!" The voice was young, full of heated rage. A deep breath announced that the tirade was only beginning. Ranma was suddenly very glad he was hidden from view, and sunk deeper in the chair to further shield himself from notice. "Do you two know how hard it was to convince him to teach me at all, let alone on this plane? He'll never come back, now!"

"Well, sweetie, you see-" Maz tried, holding a hand towards her, palm out.

"Don't you sweetie me, dad!" A sharp growl cut off the demon before he could continue. The voice continued in a sickly sweet tone, as if the person were talking to a toddler. "I know it's in your nature to bait mom into arguments. Everyone knows you're very, very good at it. You need not exercise your... talent, for lack of a better word, every damned time you get the opportunity!"

"It's not my fault every time the snow flies around here..." Maz muttered, making the words half sound like a prayer. His eyes flicked towards Ranma. "That storm was our guests. You can scold them about it if you like."

"I'll have a few words to say to them when I see them," the voice growled, stomping towards the chair in which Ryouga sat. As a pale hand slapped down on the top of the chair and a young girl in a dark gray dogi vaulted the top of the chair, Ranma realized she hadn't noticed that the chairs were occupied.

Whether it was coincidence or fate, Ryouga's hand happened to be in the perfect position to pad the girl's behind from his solid thighs. Her left leg clipped his arm as she fell, momentum throwing Ryouga's other hand briefly into the air before it landed on her chest.

Confused by the sudden weight on his lap and the softness in his hands, Ryouga's fingers twitched as he fought his way to the land of the consciousness. Ranma couldn't decide whether to laugh or wince at the odd sight of righteous female wrath being vented on someone besides him. Ryouga soon lost consciousness again, aided by a few sharp blows.

Angry eyes found Ranma.

"Who the hell are you, and why should I let this ass live?"

"I'm Saotome Ranma," Ranma offered with a resigned sigh. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. He idly wondered if he was ever destined to make a good first impression on anyone he ever met. "That's Hibiki Ryouga. Sorry 'bout this."

Author's Notes

Originally this chapter was slated to be longer, but weighing in at nearly 5,000 words, that scene was just too perfect an end to waste. For those wondering, Maza'grameph's name is pronounced with short sounding As and the ph sounding like a soft F. Pretty much the way it looks is the way it's said.

The idea of Yuki-onna being a title passed mother to daughter was inspired by On A Pale Horse by Piers Anthony. Though the remaining books in that series failed to tweak my interest, the initial offering is worth the read if you can find it.

And guys, while I can't promise a new chapter within days or even a couple weeks, there won't be such a long gap again. Scout's honour.

Cheers,

Gaming Ikari


	5. Chapter 5

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 5

Ranma idly noted that his commonplace introduction served as much to explain his current situation as it had so long ago, when he'd first arrived at the Tendo dojo. He did his best to smother the dry chuckle fighting it's way out at the stunned mix of total confusion and white-hot rage now dancing back and forth across the young girl's face.

The girl's father didn't bother to hid his own mirth. Low chuckles of a deep, resonate bass filled every empty space in the room. Miyuki's lips quirked into a small smile, fading only slightly as the rage on her daughter's face finally won the war for dominance.

"I don't care about names. What I do care about are two humans interrupting my training with petty bickering," The girl spat, grabbing her victim by his yellow shirt and casually pulling the fanged boy off her chair and onto the ground. The set of her brow and tightness of her shoulders managed to make even the act of sitting into an aggressive gesture.

"Look, we didn't mean to cause any trouble," Ranma tried, holding up his right arm and jangling the magically-bonded chairs criss-crossing his forearm. "An old lech me and Ryouga know used these to try and make me do whatever he wants. We figured since they were causing us so much trouble and they belonged to your mom, we may as well return 'em."

"Which, unfortunately, isn't as simple as you think," Yuki-onna stated, wiggling her torso and sinking even further into the cushions and shoulders of her seat. Her arms fell to drap across her knees, crossed at the forearms. Her fingers idly curled her husband's hair as her voice turned stern. "The description the old woman gave you of the spell wasn't accurate. In fact, it was dead wrong. Either she is meddling with magic she scarce understands or had good reason to want you away from your home for a long, long time."

Ranma guessed the odds at about even for Cologne's motives. Her knowledge of magic was sometimes spotty, yet surpassed the mastery of all but a few people. Ranma could count the ones he knew with one hand and still have a finger left over.

On the other hand, the pigtailed boy mused ruefully, killing Saffron had been a pretty big clue that Shampoo's chances of collaring his heart and returning to her village with a dutiful husband were dwindling rapidly. For all he knew, the aborted wedding shortly before Happosai had used the chains had started her planning.

Going to her for help would have put the means to dispose of him without arousing his suspicion squarely in her hands. A frosty chill engulfed him, in spite of the warmth warding the frozen wasteland of this strange world. Cologne had always offered her help whenever Ranma needed it, teaching skills taught only rarely to outsiders and using her considerable wisdom to aid Ranma in whatever convoluted mess he found himself in.

Despite that, he knew Akane's legendary speed in destroying perfectly normal food would be eternity next to the time it would take the Matriarch to decide to sacrifice him for the sake of her violet-tressed heir.

Even if crafty old woman had just made a mistake with the ritual, the realization that his trust in her could not, should never have been blind sobered him. The rare acquisition of wisdom washed away the dregs of exhaustion sapping his attention as the mistress of this domain continued. Slowly, timidly, the warmth of the cottage began to return.

"The spell she used is irrevocably binding and consists of two radically different components. The first empowers the willing subjects with the means, however slim, of attaining whatever goal they seek. The second is a merely a spell of return, flinging the strongest magical item within the field towards the essence that crafted it," Her eyes turned stern and her head dropped a touch, as she paused for a moment, allowing her blue-eyed guest to absorb the information. "You're very lucky for two separate reasons, you know. Your unconscious friend has an item only a fraction less potent than those chains. So close that a fluctuation in either could have flung you to the other of existence."

"My mother also used the powers of her position as Yuki-onna when she enchanted those chains, the title which is now mine," One delicate eyebrow lifted, as she leaned her head back to gaze at the wooden planks of the ceiling. "As my mother exists neither in life or any afterlife, the traces of her magic would have dragged you into oblivion. Your soul wouldn't have made it to your afterlife. You would have simply ceased to be, as tangible to anything as a man trying to clench a hurricane in his hands."

Another chill washed over Ranma, chasing away the bits of warmth which had dared to comfort him. He knew it wouldn't return tonight, perhaps not even for many after. The multitude of uncertainties and dangers hadn't occurred to him when he'd decided to begin the search. Too annoyed by Ryouga's constant presence and too impatient for the week preceding the ritual to be over, he hadn't considered how large the scope of his quest might grow.

In spite of all he'd seen and done since fate had placed him at the Tendo dojo, a small part of him wanted to be back in the room he shared with his old man, Ryouga always joined to him by an intangible leash and all. He fought it down, clearing the dryness from his throat with a cough.

"You were saying I might be gone a long time?" Ranma asked, leaning back in his chair as the snow woman lifted her head to again look at him. He waved an arm, his anxiety demanding action from him as his curiosity burned. "What's that mean?"

"The spell is concerned with the goal you were focused on at the time it was cast," Miyuki stated. "It warps the designs of fate to allow the chance encounters and beneficial circumstances you might not have had, allowing you progress you might never have achieved on your own. It also negates other possibilities, ones which would allow you to abandon or change the same goal that it twists reality to provide for."

She glanced away, not meeting his eyes as she paused.

"If there was anything on the mortal plane which would have helped you, the spell would have put you in a position to acquire that first, regardless of the portion which sought the essence of my title," The woman's words were a whisper, and Ranma noticed for the first time that Maz's ever-present grin had vanished, replaced by a frown which made his hellish ancestry all to obvious. "Until both of you are free from those chains, you will never again see your home. Not if it takes you a thousand years."

"And the stupid hedge-mage who started this mess got my daughter dragged into it," Maz growled, the first serious words Ranma had heard him speak. The confusion that made grasping a thought impossible to the pigtailed boy was mirrored by the look on Koyuki's face.

"Look at Ryouga's face, Koyuki," the girl's mother whispered, the hint of a sob hiding in the harsh syllable of the girl's name. Her eyes swung to her daughter, never once meeting Ranma's. "I saw what happened. I didn't let on I knew you were lying because I was sure it wouldn't come up until you replaced me."

"Wait, no... That can't count!" Koyuki protested. Unlike Koyuki, Ranma's confusion over what Maz had said had not been clarified by Miyuki's words. No good at puzzles, he struggled with a board missing most of it's pieces. Koyuki thrust a finger towards the unconscious boy on the rug in front of her. "I wasn't even Yuki-onna when I tried it! He can't be!"

"You were using the powers of Yuki-onna for their intended purpose, though you lacked the other magic which would have shown you he was too strong to take. The conditions are met," Yuki-onna intoned, her voice hovering in a strange place between stern and regret. "He and you will be wed."

"Married?" Ranma croaked, trying to picture the pair on his right resembling the pair to his left in any form. From what he'd seen, the concept of Koyuki ever being quiet and content was as alien as the thought of Ryouga calmly sitting with a girl in his lap. "How's that gonna work?"

"An enchantment on our family line. It works much like the spell which brought you here, in fact, ensuring that the first-born child is a girl with a strong aptitude for magic. It also guarantees that the first man she fails to kill is destined to be her husband," Miyuki's eyes closed, her tone flat with disapproval. "Normally, our family has access to senses which allows us to know the strength of whoever we see. Koyuki, while she has a flair for the more destructive talents of my position, has demonstrated all the understanding of a newborn when it comes to subtlety."

"I won't marry him," the girl at the center of attention growled, standing up and pointedly stepping on Ryouga's side as she did so. Ranma thought he saw disappointment in her eyes when the gesture had no effect whatsoever on the slumbering brawler. Pointedly not looking at anyone present, she stomped across the room and up the stairs.

The impressive shudder of her door slamming a moment later seemed to reach even Ryouga, as deeply out of touch with the world as he was.

"We should talk more in the morning. The guest room on this floor would probably be best," the white-tressed lady said quietly as she slipped off of Maz's lap. The man grunted, his hand reaching for the book on the table. She turned to walk away and took three steps, before pausing to shoot her husband a look Ranma could swear he'd mirrored on his mother's face. "Behave."

"Yeah, yeah... I won't do anything," Maz finally muttered after a moment, Miyuki then nodding before continuing on her journey. The man absently rubbed a horn, his eyes flickering in time with the dancing flame in the hearth. When Ranma finally heard a door click shut overhead, the flame abruptly doubled in size, filling the room with an oppressive blanket of heat. Maz glanced up, the scowl on his face at odds with the mirth in his eyes. "Sorry, but the little lady can't take the heat. I, on the other hand, enjoy it it. As you can't punish me in other ways for changing the temperature, I won't bother keeping you happy."

"Is the big, bad demon afraid of the tiny little ice chick?" Ranma threw back with a smile, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair. The smirk he was wearing threatened to cramp his cheek.

"Laugh all you want, runt. I've spent more time on the crapper than your society has had a written language and she still scares me," Maz admitted, his eyes flicking up before returning to match Ranma's gaze. "Despite her position being about as minor as it gets with the thousands of gods scattered around existence, she can match gods with a prime domain blow for blow with a grin."

"Prime domain?" Ranma muttered, fumbling with the concept.

"Short version? The more crap a god's position has power over, the more juice they've got behind their magic. So a god of war like Ares has more power in his sneezes than say, Thiggrakuk, god of left-handed caravan merchants."

He paused, one talon rising to scratch below his ear.

"Thing is, my girl gets the same respect a god with a prime domain gets. I've never really learned why. The politics of gods don't really get aired much around a guy who's technically on the other side," he sighed, shrugging theatrically, adding, "I just read the paper. Thing is, Koyuki's nearly as strong as her mom at the whole cold thing. Your buddy over there should be dead."

"More times than you know," Ranma grumbled, climbing to his feet as he realized just how tired he was. He paused, glancing at the fire, still dancing merrily, completely ignoring the lack of fuel normally required to create it. "So... does that thing go away when you go to sleep?"

"I don't sleep," Maz grunted, flipping open his book. He turned a page before his eyes flitted up to look into Ranma's, a serious calm replacing his smirk. "Fact is, kid... You've got a lot of weaknesses your enemies won't, now. Eating and sleeping are past-times for most of us, not requirements."

Ranma mulled the information, wondering. What would it be like to never have to sleep or eat, anyway?

"Oh, and take that floor mat with you," Maz muttered with a chuckle, flipping the page of his book. Ranma noticed, for the first time, that the ink was a dark red. "It clashes with the other carpets."

"Yeah, yeah," Ranma muttered, grabbing Ryouga's left arm and slinging the limp boy across his shoulders. He glanced into his rival's face with a chuckle, suddenly realizing that for once, he wasn't a participant in the pocket of madness in which he usually reigned king. "You know, it's usually me that picks up fiancées when I'm not looking. Welcome to the club, pal. Ain't any perks, but it's kinda exclusive."

The reading devil's chuckle followed Ranma to bed.

Ranma stirred in his bed as the first rays of dawn flitted through the gaps in the lace curtains covering the small window of the guest room. A languid stretch shifted the covers, the motion also twisting his head from the bright light which had broken his slumber.

He shifted, his body sinking deeper into the thick down mattress as he debated the merits of going back to sleep versus being able to speak to Miyuki without her daughter's interference. Even after the torrent of information he'd gotten last night, he knew that there were more answers he needed.

On the other hand, the quilt was the most comfortable thing Ranma had ever slept in. Some material which felt a lot like cotton, only softer. Light as a feather and it still managed to feel warm and thick. Fighting a compulsion to succumb to the softness of the mattress and the warmth of the sun's rays through the window, the pigtailed boy sat up.

His survival instincts cheered silently at the decision as the blue-eyed young man swung his feet onto the cold planks of the floor, all too aware just how often they got ignored.

Ranma's gaze fell on Ryouga, sleeping in the room's other bed. The previous night, Ranma had dumped him in the bed which he thought less comfortable, reasoning that he deserved it for bothering to put the heavy chump in a bed at all. Noting the angle of the light and the slumbering boy's position, he knew Ryouga would be up before the sun touched him at all.

"Stupid luck," Ranma muttered, standing and doing his best to remember the fire-walker training, reasoning that the memory of the heat could negate the bitter cold. Or something.

"I wouldn't curse luck if I were you," Maz's deep voice noted merrily from the doorway. Ranma turned to see the rangy man leaning against the door, one hand holding a steaming cup. He jabbed the cup towards the Anything Goes heir. "Luck is actually pretty spiteful."

"Huh?" Ranma noted, higher brain functions trying to rev the stalled engine.

"Luck's about two thousand fragments of what was once a pretty powerful spirit," Maz explained, taking a sip from his mug with a satisfied grunt. "Some of the fragments are pretty mean spirited and will use any opportunity to make a situation worse. Other fragments are persistent, hanging around the same person for months, years, or even a lifetime. Occasionally some poor bastard gets stuck with a spirit that's got both, usually after insulting luck."

The young man's throat swallowed, remembering all the times he'd cursed his luck. Despite the fact Ranma knew they were alone, he felt eyes boring into the back of his torso. Waiting.

"Of course, it's all pretty much random," Maz continued. He drained his cup in one tidal wave, his arm hanging loosely at his side. "Luck's the opposite of Fate, in a sense. Fate schemes and plots, trying to arrange events years or even centuries in advance. She can't influence current events. Her domain is the future. Luck is eternally of the present, acting when the possibility is there and paying no attention to anything, really."

Another sip, and then a sigh. "Problem is, you never know who's caused it, when a situation goes from bad to worse. It could have been Luck deciding to make a stone a little slipperier, or it could have been Fate putting an incompetent mason in the position to lay the crooked stone which catches your toe."

"Why all the talk about luck and fate?" Ranma queried, stepping around the bed and walking towards the door. "And if they both can hurt and help, why bother picking a side? Especially one that's so unpredictable?"

"Because your first stop is going to be Fate's domain," Maz replied with a smirk. "And I choose to favour Luck for one reason: Until I slip and fall, Luck might decide the stone isn't so slippery after all. Fate's inept mason did his work a long time ago."

Ryouga, despite Ranma's assumption, had woken up nearly the same moment his pigtailed rival was roused. Years of solitary travel had given him excellent hearing and a seasoned wariness of his surroundings. Thus, the quiet sounds Ranma made as he banished sleep woke the brown-eyed boy as well.

Even had those not been enough, the discussion Maz had with Ranma surely would have. Seeing the demon's wink through slitted eyes, Ryouga knew that ensuring he was awake had been part of the red-tinged man's reason for entering the room in the first place.

Strange.

He lay in bed, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. That uneasy sense in his gut which seemed to warn him about danger was now telling him that this was going to be just the first step in a long journey, however far from home they seemed to be already.

Hearing the indecipherable murmurs on the other side of the door walk upstairs, Ryouga swung his own feet out of bed, feeling a multitude of bruises he would have sworn he didn't have last night. Ranma must have gotten him a lot better than he thought, and the need to throw himself into training to atone for his lapse filled him.

So preoccupied with thoughts of martial improvement, he was out in the snow warming up before he realized that he was near the edge of the range that had bound himself and his eternal foe for more than a week. He turned back to the house, feeling the lack of resistance on his arm.

Wondering if Ranma were now pinned into the corner between the floorboards and the wall, Ryouga lashed his arm back even further. When a protesting pigtailed boy failed to crash through the wall, the Lost Boy knew Maz's wink had held more than one meaning. For whatever reason, the bond had been suspended for now.

Worried about what might happen should he and Ranma be far apart when the magic re-asserted itself, Ryouga moved a few paces closer to the cottage before he stretched, going through the unconscious warm-up routines which would allow him to push his body to the limit.

"So, the mortal thinks he knows how to fight," a vaguely familiar voice growled, before Ryouga spun to face a short girl squaring off against him with an unrestrained look of hostility. He tensed as the girl's leg relaxed, readying for a leap. Ryouga shifted, scowling at the girl.

The swirling dark clouds and rising wind only reinforced the tension between the pair.

His mind wandering in that pre-fight emptiness he tried to fill himself with, the fanged boy noted that the way weather reacted to emotions would have made any number of people happy with the dramatics. He simply waited, only mildly curious about the animosity as he concentrated on th shifting feet of his foe, the dip in her center of gravity.

Her left hand burst into flames as she launched herself at the black-haired young man. The wind howled as snow became hail.

Ranma's eyes gazed in wonder at the small satchel Miyuki was presenting him with, noting the exquisite detail in the embroidery depicting a writhing pair of dragons, one a sea-deep blue and the other a brilliant emerald. Black beads lined the seams of a sturdy white fabric, with a lone strip of fabric which would hold the bag on the wearer's shoulder.

"I happened to be searching through my old storeroom, when I came across this. This is a bag my great grandfather made. It can hold a lot more than it appears, and not only weighs nothing at all... but it's almost impossible to destroy. I imagine you two can..." Miyuki halted mid-voice, her reverent smile falling into a stern glare at the smug look on her husband's face. "What?"

"The bag was wrapped up in an old canvas tarp. The only reason we noticed it at all was because I tripped and knocked over the box it was in," Maz told Ranma, eyes tight with anticipation, brushing off his wife's increasingly angry gaze as he studied the youth.

"Luck pushing you into the box, or Fate warping that floorboard?" Ranma wondered, his mind whirling as he began to go over other key moments of his life, wondering if one or the other had used their hand to guide his life.

"There are two of you know," Yuki-onna muttered, her voice thick as sudden realization flashed in her eyes. She was shaking her head in disbelief, glancing from her blue-eyed guest to her red-eyed husband. "The kami preserve me, I was foolish enough to marry one. Now I find myself stuck with another for a full two months. Two of you!"

"Two what?" Ranma asked, taking the bag as the woman suddenly thrust it towards him as if it were a soiled rag. Instead of answering she pushed through the pair, leaving them to watch as she stalked down the hall, filling the silence with angry muttering.

"Well I'll be a war god's scrotum!" Maz crowed, his eyes wide as he stared at Ranma as if seeing him for the first time. He grabbed the pigtailed youth into a confusing hug, slapping him on the back as if he were a long-lost friend. He thrust the confused boy away, gripping his shoulders as a broad smile split his face. "I never thought I'd meet another one! Not even one in a billion with the potential, and some punk mortal does it just like that!"

"Does what?" Ranma fumbled, wrinkling his brow as his clueless gaze found eyes shining with delight. "What'd I do?"

"You're a _cre'lak'din!_ Guys with more magic than some planes of existence spend millenia trying to get it, and you do it between waking up and breakfast!" Maz crowed, shaking Ranma as he threw his head back and roared with laughter. "No wonder the spell threw you across half of existence! You needed to come here first anyway!"

"What's a cray lock-thing anyway?" Ranma threw out, shaking off the excited man's hands with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Fate can't touch you!" Maz cried, filled the room with another booming laugh. He shook a fist at the roof, glaring into the shadows as if Fate were perched in the rafters looking down at the pair. "I knew I'd find another one some day! I win again!"

"If my life's any indication, Fate's been out to get me since day one. How can I be a cray-bok-fin?" Ranma interrupted. Maz stopped shaking his fist and turn his gaze back to meet the disbelieving blue eyes. He paused for a moment.

"I'm not sure, but I think that until another _cre'lak'din _tells you the story Fate can touch the stuff around you. Once you recognize the story and begin to see Her influence in those close to you, she can't influence those near to you, either," Maz explained, his eyes gazing around the room. "One of the key elements of Fate's domain is that her meddling isn't allowed to be definite to any entity. She's immune to scrying of any form but if even a single person can identify her handiwork, she's not allowed to do anything where that person can see it."

"So what? I bet a lot of people can say something bad happening is Fate interfering. What makes us so special?" Ranma countered, crossing his arms.

"There's a difference between suspecting she's meddling and knowing. Anybody can guess she's doing her work. However, only a _cre'lak'din _can know, with a certainty he believes to the core of his soul, that Fate's caused something to happen," Maz said with a chuckle. "And every time one of us sees it like that means Fate's broken the rules, so she gets blasted with the sort of headache a cross-ocean sailor has on the last day of shore leave."

"She must have spent a lot of time recovering, then," Ranma muttered, torn between conflicting emotions. He didn't know whether he should feel relief in the knowledge that his paranoia was not, in fact, paranoia, or if he should feel angry that he was correct about everyone and everything being out to get him.

Quiet wonder filled him at the explanation for the chaos that dogged his every step, foiled his every attempt at a moment's peace. Thousands of small changes directed everything towards him. Stopping in Nerima must have been like a fleeing deer stopping and turning to present a still profile to a hunter. Settling down gave the meddling woman an unmoving target and a larger area to work.

His mind wrestling with the concept, he brushed off the pitter-patter of tiny ice striking solid wood.

"You know, you're really lucky. Fate usually manages to pick off mortal _cre'lak'din_ before they get out of diapers. You're probably the first to make it to puberty," Maz noted with a dry chuckle. He crossed his arms, his eyes calculating as they danced above a vicious smirk. "Mortals already have the edge on meddling with Fate's plans. There aren't any planes of existence you're barred from entering. Even if you're not strong compared to half the things you're going to run across, you get to keep that strength regardless. Most immortal spirits are weaklings if they're in the wrong place."

"So Fate's going to play nice when I show up on her doorstep?" Ranma asked with a chuckle which matched the menace in his fellow _cre'lak'din's _smile.

"You're going to be walking into a domain where even the most powerful prime domain gods are as weak as kittens. She's strong in her domain, but she can't touch you at all, " Maz noted with glee. The mirrored glee on their faces was only broken as the exterior wall was, a body moving far too quickly to catch any details following a perfectly straight line before it left the room, creating another hole right beside the hall door.

"Sorry kid," Maz noted, voice laced with guilt matched only by the wince on his face. The boy only had time to quirk an eyebrow in puzzlement before his arm suddenly whipped in the direction of the meaty bullet which had seconds ago distracted him, sudden realization chasing right behind in a game of follow the leader.

"I guess I forgot to tell Koyuki about the nullification I placed on the chains," Maz noted, glancing away from the ballistic pair and out the new window, noting his daughter's shocked look. From the oddly defensive martial stance she was using and the bitter, lemony taste of negative abjuration magic lingering in the air, the demon assumed she'd sensed the suppressive aspects of the magic on Ryouga and removed them so she wouldn't be fighting a handicapped opponent.

Without that bit of magic, the binding of the chains angrily demanded the distance be closed. Maz could only assume that being in the same domain as the essence which created them added to that power.

He chuckled as he turned and started to calculate the lumber needed to fix the damage.

Author's Notes

**cre'lak'din** (CRAY-LOCK,DIN): Roughly translated from the Infernus language, the title means Defier of Fate. Just as reality itself is the enmeshing of threads in the tapestry Fate weaves, the cre'lak'din are the extraordinarily rare threads which defy the loom, leaving them untouchable. Typically, this results in Fate employing the threads nearby to destroy it as soon as possible.

For the record, I'd always intended for Ryouga to be the recipient of the fiancee treatment here. It just makes a delightful change of pace. I wanted to milk it and do the reveal at the last second, but the scene just refused to work that way.

I admit that part of my reluctance to move the boys from Yuki-onna's domain was the sheer enjoyment I got out of writing Maz. After the last chapter, I jotted down about three or four dozen lines I know I'm probably never going to get to use, which is part of the reason I jumped back in the saddle for this chapter.

Sorry if the exposition train slowed things down. The pace is going to be ramping back up very shortly, but a lot of things needed to be set up before it could happen.

Cheers,

Gaming Ikari


	6. Chapter 6

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 6

Ranma was amazed that they were both conscious, their flight somehow managing to avoid the trunks and thick branches of the trees, leaving the pair with a medley of cuts and bruises both dismissed as insignificant. Ryouga was less enthusiastic, moodily glaring back at the cottage, nearly half a mile distant.

"At least it ain't me you're mad at this time," the pigtailed boy commented dourly, pulling a twig from his hair with a wince while hopping around to shake the itching pine needles from his clothes. This managed a short-lived smile from his partner, who'd opted to brave the momentarily light snow to remove his shirt and firmly snap it.

The walk back to the newly-perforated cottage was bitter cold, made only worse by the appearance of a sudden snowstorm, which continued to grow worse by the second despite Ryouga's stonily calm face and Ranma's best efforts to squelch his growing annoyance.

The _cre'lak'din_ explained what he knew about the spell and their situation in terse sentences designed to minimize his lung's exposure to increasingly frigid air. The last time he'd gotten really mouthy in weather like this: Two years previously frequent taunts had earned him a sound beating and a case of minor pneumonia.

The Lost Boy's grunts after the occasional pause were the only indication he heard at all, his head tilted low and steady to keep the sharp, biting snow from his eyes as the pair hiked back towards warmth.

Minutes later, the muffled shouting in the cottage indicated their own moods, however, surly, were not the reason for their current misery. As Ryouga's hand opened the door, the storm outside abruptly halted as the shouting inside subsided, footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Miyuki's eyes still watched the stairs, Maz throwing the pair a cheerful wave as he rustled in a cabinet placed against the wall.

They blinked as the cabinet disappeared, the cheerful man now holding a simple-looking mallet. He paused on his way back to fix the holes in his home, feeling the weight of their stares.

"No need for my toolbox to clutter the place if it doesn't have to," he quipped, hefting the blunt instrument to salute them. "Storing them in a dimensional fold might tie up a bit of my magic, but it keeps the lady over there happy and keeps my stuff close enough to be convenient."

"And that?" Ranma asked, pointing to the mallet.

"It's generally called a hammer. Used for hitting nails and whatnot, " Maz said dryly, chuckling as he used the tip to scratch his jaw. "I know you've seen a lot of magic kicking around here but not everything is enchanted to make our lives easier."

"Only because I refuse to allow him to drag back a mystical trinket every time he steps out," his wife added, turning her gaze to the pair. "There's wood in a shed out back. The quicker you help my thoughtless husband fix the holes he helped cause, the sooner we can explain the rest of what you need to know for me to get my mother's chains back."

Shortly after Ranma and Ryouga began to help Maz with the repairs, the demon had stopped his work, noted their skill at carpentry with a grin. Ryouga had spent years doing odd jobs to earn his way, including the occasional stint as a handyman. Frequent damage to the Tendo dojo and the houses around it had forced Ranma to quickly learn carpentry or be forced to work multiple jobs to pay for all the damage.

Maz sat his hammer down minutes later, brushing sawdust off of his hands off with a sigh. Ranma shot a look at Ryouga, both stopping their own work and wondering why they were taking a break so soon after they'd begun.

"Look, I can see you boys have everything well in hand," Maz said smoothly, rolling his hand to wave them back to work. He flashed them a grin. "Tell you what; I have to pop into the next plane to grab a few essentials. They've got the tenderest steaks you'll ever taste, I swear... And special spices you can't even get in the mortal world make them ten times better."

"Sounds good to me," Ranma said with a broad grin, his mouth already watering at the thought of the thick slab of meat. Ryouga's nod was perhaps less expressive than his rival's, though Maz noted the way the boy licked his lips with a smirk.

"Alright, perfect. You two have all the tools you need, and there's more than enough wood out back to finish up," Maz noted, a flaming orb burning in the air behind him. "I'll be back before you two finish and then we can barbecue the meat and have a real meal while Miyuki and I fill you two in on what you need to know."

With those words, he dove into the orb, which vanished with a quiet pop. The boys turned their attention back to the work, determination and resolve plain in their every action.

The majority of the work was done as the undeniable aroma of cooking beef wafted up the stairs, accompanied by the light sizzle which meant the slabs were being cooked at just the right temperature.

Ryouga sanded the last piece of wood to be nailed in place, while Ranma tapped the new planks and ensured they were soundly in place. While neither boy took any pleasure in working with wood, they knew they'd outdone themselves: Once it was all stained and varnished, even the most canny-eyed builder would have been lucky to determine any damage had been done at all.

The boys were nearly finished when Miyuki happened to wander upstairs. The snow woman ran a critical eye over the repairs, lips pursed as she tapped one forefinger to the tip of her pointed jaw. Finally she flashed the pair a warm smile.

"I was worried when Maz told me you two insisted on doing it yourselves, but I guess I shouldn't have been," The beaming woman stated, sweeping a hand out to take in all of the repairs. "You two managed to do such good work I doubt that wily old carpenter will even be able to tell his own work from yours!"

"He's a carpenter?" Ranma sputtered, his voice shrill with righteous shock. Ryouga muttered to himself, his face turning into a mask of simmering anger so still it could have been carved from stone.

"Of course," Miyuki stated, turning back towards the stairs. "My husband has lived through hundreds of centuries. He's actually the one who built this cottage. Now you two better hurry and wash up, as Maz told me the steaks are nearly ready."

The boys exchanged quiet looks, not speaking as their host walked back down the stairs.

"That meat better be all he said it was," Ranma growled, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles popped.

"If it isn't, we can return the favor in other ways," Ryouga agreed.

Slumping back in the high backed chair, idly shifting the belt line of his trousers, Ryouga couldn't fight down the deep breath of contentment. The demon sitting across from him winked, well aware that his trick had been forgiven as soon as the Lost Boy had taken his first bite.

The steaks had been everything Maz promised and more. Ryouga knew by the look of amazement on his partner's face that even the blue-eyed boy had never had better: Given the astonishing quality of the fare, neither boy doubted that the only meal that would surpass the one they'd just had would have to come from a god of cooking.

"So, you two should probably be filled in on what you need to know. Preparation is always key, right?" Maz asked, sliding out of his chair and striding over to the couch. He waved the boys over, waving his hand and causing his armchair to vanish from it's place by the fire and reappear with a pop to face the couch and the TV, back just touching the wall. "Come and sit. No need to plant our asses in anything but the best if they're going to be planted for a while."

The boys followed Miyuki, planting themselves on each end of the plush couch as the feminine spirit planted herself on her husband, ignoring the ritual token protest he raised. After a brief, futile struggle to liberate his left arm, the demon snapped the fingers of his right hand, grasping the TV remote which appeared.

"First things first," Maz began, stabbing the remote towards the fanged boy. "How much did the girly-haired haired punk tell you about what he already knows?"

Ryouga paused, organizing the jumble of sentences he'd heard on the hike and processing the information Ranma had passed on during the times they'd worked together during the repairs, sorting it into a semblance of order.

"I know that the spell Happosai used didn't work. I've got some sort of protection, but not nearly as much as the spell was supposed to grant," Ryouga began, opting to sort the facts chronologically. "The magic which brought us here means we can eventually succeed, but won't let us go home or give up. The next place we need to go is Fate's domain. He also told me some stuff about the gods and how their powers work, but it feels like every time I try and remember the words, my memory fogs up."

"I guess Ranma tried to explain Fate and Luck to you," Maz said with a nod. His eyes rolled up, as if he were trying to peer at his own lifted eyebrows. "I didn't tell him that the conversation is a test. Certain magic prevents anyone but a _cre'lak'din _from actually remembering the details. It probably blanketed that stretch of your memory and got the other stuff as well, so I may as well start from scratch."

One finger found a button on the remote control, causing the TV to flicker on. The screen depicted a cartoon angel flapping her wings on the right side of the screen, an equally deformed red devil with a pitchfork, pointed tail and horns dancing in flames on the left.

"There are only two types of immortal spirits. Everyone you'll run into from the most powerful and omnipotent of beings to the weakest runts will either be a god or a demon," Maz explained, his finger pressing another button on the remote. The screen zoomed in on the angel, comically pushing the protesting red devil off the left side of the display. "A god is an immortal soul which can't be destroyed, only diminished. A god's power springs from the domain he or she controls, and expands or shrinks based on the belief of mortals in the reality of the domain. They can lose or gain domains over the course of their existence, growing and shrinking in power accordingly... and can also willingly invest a portion of their powers in another being."

Maz set the remote down on the unoccupied armrest for a moment, snapping his fingers and conjuring a smoking tumbler, from which he took a tidal gulp which left a gleaming blue rivulet trailing from the corner of his lips. Miyuki used the distraction to snatch up the remote and press a button, allowing the red devil to burst onto the screen and dropkick the angel out the right side, leaving him poised with hands on hips and chest thrust out as he cackled with glee.

"Demons, on the other hand, can be destroyed. Unlike a god, however, demons draw their power from a consistent pool of energy. They grow or shrink in power based on the deaths of other demons. They can also use souls or other forms of borrowed energy to temporarily augment their own strength," Miyuki pressed another button as she paused, and the cartoon devil presented a well-dressed mortal with a contract. As it was signed, the devil grew in size, his horns becoming longer and thicker. "Killing a demon frees it's eternal energy and should there be nothing around to capture the use of it, the energy disperses and seeks out new demonic hosts at random."

"The important thing you two need to remember," Maz noted, pausing to toss his tumbler into the air to vanish with a puff of smoke, "is that being a god or a demon doesn't make the spirit good or evil. There are absolutely vile gods who routinely do things that'd make even the worst mortal flinch, while some demons are so pure and good they'd make the most altruistic soul feel guilty for it's failings. The only difference between a god and a demon is how it's powers work."

"So, what happens if a god's body is killed?" Ranma wondered, thinking about what he knew of the previous Yuki-onna.

"Like I said, a god can't be destroyed, just diminished," Miyuki noted, carefully resting her head on her husbands to avoid the four shark horns. "When a god is wounded so badly they can't hold their existence together, they get scattered across existence. They reform eventually, the intervening time feeling like a blink, but if they're weak enough the process can take thousands of years."

"And if they're strong enough, days. Maybe even hours," Maz noted, chuckling to himself. "If you manage to nail one of the stronger ones, don't stick around to celebrate or you might have to do it all over again."

"Another thing to keep in mind is that the various planes of existence have a direct effect on the power a god or demon can use," Miyuki noted, the press of a button turning the devil finding himself chased from his client by the furious angel. The world around the pair shifted, changing from a mundane street to a lava-streaked mountain. The devil and angel switched roles, the angel finding herself the one hunted. "Facing the same spirit can be wildly different depending on the level of reality you find as your battleground. It can mean the difference between victory and defeat."

"You really think it's possible for us to fight these guys?" Ryouga asked scratching behind his ear as he sat forward in the couch, elbows resting on his knees. "I mean, I know I'm a lot stronger than the average person, but you're talking about beings we've been "

"Your friend beat one not too long ago. Saffron was not just any old chump. He's a spirit who had not just one, but two prime domains to his name. His power might have been severely limited on the mortal plane, but any god would have come under the same limitations," Maz explained, his eyes narrowing as his grin broadened. "The fact of the matter is that you two boys are absurdly powerful sacks of meat, and you're not going to be limited by the restraints which will occasionally bind everyone else. Under the right circumstances, there isn't anyone who can stand in your way."

"And in others, even the weakest chump can flatten us," Ranma muttered, souring at the thought. He didn't mind facing tough foes. It was pretty much his stock and trade. The thought of being hopelessly outmatched by simple bad luck was just irritating, though.

"There are ways around that," Maz said, plucking a pair of identical malachite pendants from the air. Ranma caught them, untangling one and placing the other in the hands belonging to the curious brown eyes of his partner. Ranma admired the rough stone, bound tightly with leather, while Ryouga simply hung his around his neck, flapping the collar of his shirt to let the cool stone wrest against his chest. "Those stones grant you two the ability to sense, in a rudimentary way, the strength of whatever you concentrate on. Fang boy, focus on me and imagine the black outline of a four-sided diamon, a tiny glowing light pulsing at the center. Hold that thought and keep your eyes on me."

"Ow!" Yelped Ryouga, jumping to his feet and slapping his chest. He growled, murder plain on his face as he glowered at the red-tinged man now chuckling in his seat. "Why the hell did I get shocked? It felt like someone flicked a live electrical wire on my collarbone!"

"That's a warning system," Maz said smugly. His grin only increased as he waved a hand. "It means whatever you're scanning is too strong for you to fight in the plane you're in. If you ever come up against someone and that happens, you need to run fast and run hard... and not stop until you find yourself in another realm."

"You're really that strong?" Ranma asked, as if seeing the cheerful devil in a whole new light.

"Well, yes and no," The demon admitted, his eyes turning to his wife. "Miyu is Yuki-onna, and has absolute control over her realm. She sets the rules, including which sort of eternal spirit has full use of their magic. Honey, if you would?"

"If I need to remind you..." Miyuki replied with a sigh of exasperation, her face suddenly filled with a terrible calm as her eyes became opaque beacons of brilliant white light. Maz suddenly went pale, his grin becoming strained as he waved a hand at Ranma.

The pigtailed boy focused on Maz, picturing the diamond with the pinprick of light glowing at the center. The glow intensified, filling perhaps a quarter of the space in the outline before fading away.

"You can stop now, love," Maz noted, giving the bright-eyed woman a firm poke in the ribs. Warmth returned to her face as the cold brilliance in her eyes succumbed to the intense fire the boys had come to know she usually possessed. Colour returned to the demon's face, his smile no longer forced. "Now I bet I filled about a third of that diamond, right?"

"Actually, it was only a fourth," Ranma admitted, chuckling at the outraged look which flashed across the man's face. He laced his fingers at the base of his neck, resting his head against the back of the couch. "But I didn't get shocked like pork-breath did."

"That's because with my wife clamping down on my powers, either one of you could have kicked me around like a schoolboy kicks a puppy. The diamond represents the theoretical limit of your power," Maz noted. He flashed both a feral grin. "Though that's not to say a foe outside the shape is outside defeat, nor does it guarantee victory over someone who only registers as a pinprick."

"I've got a question about this bag," Ranma stated, slinging the shoulder strap over his head to lay the bag across his knees, eyes tracing the intricate embroidery. His gaze rose to meet the stare of the domain's owner. "You said it can hold a lot and can't really be destroyed, but how does it work?"

"I can't say for sure," the woman admitted, her glance shifting to the bag. "One of my ancestors married a powerful human wizard, Fiznab or something like that, and he created the bag as a wedding gift. Anything put in can be pulled out later, just by thinking about the item and sticking your hand in the bag. The only limitation is items must be able to fit in the bag for the magic to store them."

"I've also got to do some spring cleaning in my box of toys, but that can wait until later," Maz noted, eyes flicking from one boy to the other. "Yuki-onna here can't transport you until it's winter in the mortal realm, which doesn't happen for another two months. If you're impatient, I could use my own magic to get you where you need to go, but you'd need to be able to survive the heat of a hell-fueled inferno."

"We'll wait," Ryouga gulped, remembering the white-hot ball Maz had used to escape the carpentry. Ranma twitched at the thought himself, nodding his agreement with Ryouga as he pictured jumping in and emerging as a blackened skeleton.

"It's settled then," Maz nodded, waiting for his wife to smoothly rise to her feet before getting up himself, arms thrown high into the air as he stretched. His eyes flickered to the dangerously still girl glaring at the group from the bottom of the stairs. "Looks like you and your boyfriend will be getting to know each other a little better, sweetie."

"The sight of the wretched blink in time makes me sick to my stomach. I'd rather date a Golgothan troll!" At the girl's confusing snarl, Ryouga's head whipped to meet Maz's amused eyed.

"Golgotha is a plain comprised mostly of crap. From behinds," Maz gleefully explained, the green look on the boy's face drawing a chuckle. His eyes turned back to his daughter. "You know, you shouldn't make statements like that, honey. I know a few trolls who would love to take you to see some especially scenic methane geysers."

"Line them up." The girl retorted with a snarl, pointedly fixing her gaze on the door outside as she stalked across the room. She opened the door, turning on last time to glare at her parents. "I've got a lesson with Miyamoto. Don't you dare spoil it!"

The slam of the door echoed in the silence of the room.

"Sorry about that," Maz muttered, absently pulling his earlobe as his eyes lingered on the door. "Koyuki is fairly unusual, in that she seems to be more interested in directing her focus towards martial arts instead of magical control. It doesn't really bode well for her future as Yuki-onna, but at least I know she'll be able to stomp anyone who needs a stomping."

"Now now, dear... You know she only gets to train once every other month. He's got a very busy schedule for a mortal soul, you know," Miyuki countered, crossing her arms and pausing in thought. After a moment, she glanced at the boys. "You two might want to meet Miyamoto-sensei. I imagine you'd return with a lot more satisfaction than most."

"Miyamoto?" Ranma queried, his brow furrowing as the name plucked a familiar string in his brain. He looked at Ryouga, who flashed him a puzzled frown.

The moment stretched, Maz giggling at the sight as the boys pondered. Finally, Miyuki had had enough.

"You'd probably remember the name Musashi better," Miyuki prodded, smirking at the twin looks of shock. The knowledge that one of the greatest swordsmen in recorded history prompted them to rush to the door, heedless of the possible wrath the angry girl might direct their way. Nothing in all the heavens, on Earth, or even below would stop them from taking advantage of the opportunity.

The boys flew through the forest, their eyes focused on the lone footsteps Koyuki had left on her way to meet the soul of a legend. Hundreds of questions raced through their minds, the thought of training even once with the man adding a spring to their step which wouldn't have been matched had Miyuki told them she could remove the chains in an instant.

Ranma glanced at Ryouga as the boys vaulted from tree branch to tree branch, receiving a rare grin in return. Musashi himself. A man who would never know an equal, a man with such skill he was the impossibly high standard against which all other swordsman measured themselves.

The act of leaping about, of moving with such speed should have been child's play to the pair. Ranma's heart was a jackhammer threatening to crack his ribs. Ryouga's brow was slick with sweat, his breath short and ragged. They burst from the edge of the trees, landing fifteen feet from the treeline.

The young man facing Miyuki with a bokken glanced at the pair in annoyance, brushing back a long mass of dark chocolate brown hair. His features were smooth, high cheekbones complementing a somewhat narrow jawline and round chin. The elements made the boys think the man's appearance was deliberately refined instead of feminine.

The most surprising aspect was the realization that the man's face was familiar to the duo of brawlers, though neither could marshal their mental resources to define how and why.

Ranma's enthusiastic, unordered gushing perished as it began. The the first syllable died in a high-pitched squeak: The scowl on the aristocratic man's face demanding a silence which would not, could not brook interruption for any reason. He slowly dropped his arms to his sides, his bokken held in a casual grasp, rising to his full height as he abandoned the footwork of his stance.

Ryouga shuffled his feet, suddenly guilty for coming. No matter how eager he was to meet her teacher, he had no right to interrupt her training. He noted the anger in her eyes and met it with a look of apologetic acceptance, nodding to her before he cast his gaze to the ground and hung his head. He thought brief surprise overshadowed the wrath on her face for an instant, though he wasn't sure. He lifted his head, slowly becoming intent on the way dead swordmaster studying them.

The man absently humming to himself once with disapproval after a moment, shaking his head sadly. The simple gesture seemed made Ranma wilt and fade like a rose left untended on a midsummer day, his shoulders dropping. He looked for all the world like a misbehaved puppy whimpering in front of it's master.

"How dare you two miscreants sully my time with this beautiful flower? Know you not who guides her lovely hand to the pure artistry of the blade?" The man's eerily familiar pontification suddenly threw the man's vaguely familiar features into a disturbing light: He looked for all the world like a shorter, broader-shouldered version of Kuno. The speech went on, ignored in the thought-negating realization which gripped the pair.

"Look man, I'm sorry!" Ranma sputtered, awe for the legend dying quickly in the face of the reality. Much as he knew he should respect this man, the thought of paying any sort of tribute to an eerie analogue to Kuno made his mind curdle. He raised his hands palm out, waving them. "It was a mistake! We just wanted to meet you, but it was rude to interrupt like this!"

"Indeed it was, foul cur," The man growled, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on his wooden blade. The practice weapon stabbed towards the pigtailed boy with an air-shredding crack, point hovering dangerously close to sternum. "Bow and beg forgiveness, lest the Fearsome Typhoon of Nippon beat you within an inch of your life for your heinous trespasse."

Ryouga groaned as the last chance for a peaceful end died a messy death, slapping a hand across his eyes as he considered the two possible outcomes: Either Ranma was about to be mangled by one of the most venerated men in Japanese history, or he was about to pay the ultimate disrespect by handing the man his own ass on a platter.

"Beg?" Ranma sputtered, heat flaring in his chest. Legend or not, he didn't beg anyone's forgiveness. Especially not over something like this. His brow tightened, narrow blue eyes glinting as he stepped forward, bokken tip now brushing lightly against his shirt. "I apologized once. If you really want to be a jerk about this, I'll apologize for kicking your ass when I'm finished with you."

As the muscles in Musashi's jaw twitched, teeth clenched so tight they must surely be in danger of cracking, Ryouga grimly resolved to find a way to curb the blue-eyed jerk's arrogance, flashing another apologetic look to Koyuki as the air crackled around the two antagonists, getting a terse shrug in return as her piercing eyes tried to bore a hole through the Lost Boy's partner.

"I did my best to warn you. If you are such a foolish novice that this lesson must be taught with agony instead of quiet words, I shall give you the chance. Prepare yourself, for I would never be so crass as to humiliate even a wretched thing like you without the formality of a proper challenge," the man's blade twitched in his grasp, Ranma not moving a single muscle as his blue eyes stayed locked on his foe's brown. The man then allowed his blade to fall, deliberately turning his back on Ranma to face his angry student. "My sweet butterfly, I am most regretful that we must suddenly end our time together. The loss of your precious company is a debt I will repay thoroughly on his body."

"I know a guy like you back home," Ranma snorted, crossing his arms and grinning broadly with an arrogant bob of his head, stepping forward to lean his head over the kenjutsuist's shoulder, well within the man's personal space. "Kuno ain't never been able to humiliate me. You're not gonna be any different, pal."

"It brings my heart solace to know that the fruit of my forbidden romance with the Kuno family's youngest daughter has produced a soul noble enough to seek your heart," The man retorted, beginning to fade as he rested the dull side of his bokken on his shoulders, prompting Ranma to lean back or be struck in the head. The longhaired man seemed not to notice Ryouga's dropped jaw, his eyes not leaving Ranma's face for an instant as they peered through the flowing cascade of his hair. "If my descendant cannot grasp victory, I shall claim it in his stead. Two months, mangy hound."

After he finally was gone, Ranma cursed for a solid minute, no longer bothering to mask the surprise caused by Kuno's ancestry. His cursed began with Fate and reality in general, before he began to rail against the injustice of the extraordinary coincidence. He stopped sharply mid-rant, head whipping to cast his intense gaze into the path of Ryouga's stunned gaze.

"The True Blunder can never know. He can never learn this," Ranma noted solemnly. The thought of how much more unbearable Kuno would become if he learned that he was not only the descendant of Musashi but also bore a striking resemblance to the man... Well, it was just far too horrific to consider.

Ryouga nodded his agreement, turning his attention to Koyuki as he wondered how the fury in her every move could be gently settled, preferably with the bandana-topped youth emerging unscathed. Despite the illusion of focus as he spoke to the girl, his mind was as solidly gripped by the trick of Fate as Ranma.

Kunou could never know. Some secrets should be, must be taken to one's grave.

Author's Notes

Oh yeah, I went there. I completely ignored what I knew about history for the sake of the funny. I choose to blame it on the inevitable madness which is the unavoidable result of writing 15,000 words in four days. In that short period, I've also rewritten fully one fifth of my other multi-part Ranma story and made the first three chapters nearly half the length of the original.

Kuno being the bastard descendant of Mushashi was totally a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to give him a little cameo, to give the boys a moment of being totally starstruck. Then I _needed_ a reason for them to not learn awesome swordplay and making him antagonistic seemed to fit the bill.

Like all bad decisions it started with a seemingly innocent idea: I decided to make him a pompous ass _like _Kuno. The decision to throw the offhand comment about "a night of forbidden passion" struck my mind like a bolt of lightning halfway through the scene, searing the thought and branding me irrevocably.

I couldn't resist and nothing proved as cathartic as sharing the pain.

Cheers,

Gaming Ikari


	7. Chapter 7

A Duet of Fists

Chapter 7

_The mere concept of a preface is intrusive (let alone the awful reality) so I'll be brief: I've rewritten Chapter 1, nearly doubling the initial length. Enjoy._

The duration until the _cre'lak'din_'s challenge seemed to move at two wildly disparate speeds: The progression of hours spent in exhausting training slipped by both boys with a scarcely perceptible haste, while the hours between one session and the next moved with all the sloth of poured molasses to the pigtailed boy, knowledge that each day spent in Yuki-onna's domain added more time to a journey which was already destined to last far too long.

Ryouga felt his companion was lucky: Were the perception of time's pace measured by comparison, Ranma would have claimed victory hands down. The presence of Koyuki and her disapproval, voiced often and loudly, made the instances between training stretch into an eternity.

Even training was interrupted by the white-maned lass, though intrusions on the pairs martial endeavors was always unintentional and very often withdrawn with haste. Only the pigtailed-boy's undeniable urge to throw out a taunt extended the duration of Koyuki's anger during those times, verbal barb flowing from his lips before the blue-eyed boy could hope to reign himself in.

After two weeks, she'd even taken to throwing Ryouga a look of faint apology before magma-heated vitriol poured from her own rosebud lips, turning her cute frown into a mask of horrific fury as she returned Ranma's comments with a vocal broadside of her own. Despite the girl's unyielding wrath outside those few displays of a previously-unseen tender side, Ryouga found he was getting angry with Ranma right along with Koyuki whenever the blue-irised boy's insults turned a brief interruption into an abrupt cessation of training.

A sudden clarity of perception found him early one morning, the serenity brought by his meditation on a rock far from Yuki-onna's welcoming cabin shattered as he : He realized his anger with Ranma was not caused by the damage to their training but the hostility on the girl's face.

He stood, feet finding purchase on the dry surface of the boulder as his mind fought the terrifying reality. He firmly shook his head, denying the feelings as he focused on Akari's soft brown hair and ever-present smile. The Lost Boy couldn't deny a longing for the wide veranda which encircled the farmhouse she shared with her grandfather, dozens of fond memories of the house, of the girl's warmth forcefully united into a mighty phalanx which was thrown in front of Koyuki, seeking to maintain it's dominance of the boy's vast heart.

Memories of Akari's wind-chime laugh a ghostly whisper in his ear, he bitterly accepted that the mighty military formation had already ceded fertile ground, allowing a rosebud to stubbornly grow. A small part of him fervently wished to see it reach it's tentative promise of a fully-bloomed glory.

Ryouga noted wryly that the month had seen a lot of excitement, for both the permanent residents and their guests. They were all slowly becoming used to one another.

The Snow Lady herself warmed considerably to both guests, flashing them a small smile which grew more common as the length of their stay expanded. Her harshly uttered rebukes dulled to a gentle, playful chiding as she grew accustomed to the pair's habits. However, the woman seemed determined to mask her dismay at the revelation that Ranma was _cre'lak'din. _Her opinion of the boy was darkened further by the increasingly frequent theft of her husband's attention. Demon and youth often spent hours on the couch, swapping tales drawn from lives with an endless amount of misadventure.

Maz, on the other hand, seemed to delight in finding that Ranma was a kindred spirit in both personality and in his tangibility to Fate. The pranks and mischief the pair caused nearly tripled the amount of snow storms which occasionally lashed the cottage: The resulting valley of snow had the duo being loudly thrown outside until they'd shifted the massive snowbanks, Maz's cheerful assent fading only when he found he would have to assist his younger partner by hand. More than once the rest of the residents had gone to sleep as Maz and Ranma chatted by the fire, only to awaken and discover that neither had seemed to acknowledge the consumption of time or the human's need for sleep.

The unlikely pairing of benevolent devil and notorious pugilist also filled the pigtailed youth's mind with invaluable knowledge about the spirit world. Noting the crafty half-smile he wore during the duo's frequent conversations, Miyuki relented in her disapproval as she realized that planting that knowledge had been her husband's goal all along.

The red-horned man's opinion on Ryouga himself seemed split to the bandanna-clad boy: Half the time a wry amusement had the man prodding the youth into attempts to win his daughter's affection; The other half conspired to make the boy the sole target of countless acts of aggravating pranks. Some tiny part of the guest knew the focus was not just due to the lack of other potential victims he could target without reprisal. Rather than dwell on the confusing contradiction, the boy simply did his best to avoid the demon's company.

Even the once-bitter rivalry the pigtailed-boy and his wandering ally shared seemed destined to fade into a friendly camaraderie, largely due to Maz's magic. That they could walk away from one another meant the time they spent together was no longer tainted by the knowledge that the proximity was forced. Ranma still baited his brown-eyed rival with taunts and Ryouga still enjoyed the satisfying resistance of Ranma's flank or jaw beneath his fist, yet a seed of tentatively maturing respect lay underneath.

The largest change seemed to be in Koyuki herself, the bulk of her anger slowly shifting from her magically-destined suitor to his brash-mouthed partner. As the first month of their stay approached it's end, it appeared that Ranma seemed to be the focus of the snow-girl's rage just as often as Ryouga himself. Though the change seemed to be fueled primarily by the unceasing taunts she heard from her blue-eyed house guest, she also showed an interest in the breadth of Ryouga's travels.

He happily told the attentive girl stories of his decade spent wandering, describing the myriad wonders he'd seen. Her hunger for these descriptions never flagged, from the magnificent horizon-to-horizon beauty of Canada's expansive wilderness to the astonishing density and undeniable culture of Hong Kong. His heart would then curdle as the fascinated girl inevitably paused after some time, frost creeping into her vision as she abruptly spat a verbal barb and rushed off... mere

Guilt warred with joy as those rosebud lips slowly began to blossom more often, each time lasting longer than the last. Her hatred for the boy eventually seemed to have withered entirely, transforming the rearguard battle of Akari's memories into crushing rout, the rigid formation of memories of Akari crumpling before the growing bloom.

She still swore she would never marry him, but the smile she wore and lack of regret made even those declarations feel as great a victory as any he'd won.

It was at the end of that first month that Maz firmly took charge of their training, sternly explaining that the beings they were going to be encountering would inevitably have abilities they had no hope of countering unless the pair gained some experience with the intricacies of magical combat.

He then smirked, the smug certainty of the gesture a chilling promise softly brushing their survival instincts in ways that made their bones quake, ignoring their synchronized flinch as he told them he would now be their opponent.

Miyuki agreed to limit her spouse's power enough that the boys would have a sporting chance against the red-hued man. Even with the disparity in their strength negated, Maz proved an impossibly cunning foe. No matter how the boys struck or what variations they applied to their techniques, the wily devil seemed to have an ace up his sleeve to escape, nullify, or in the most embarrassing cases actually turn back towards the pair whatever attack they used.

It was also difficult to find themselves once more limited to being within thirty feet of one another after a month of freedom, but Maz steadfastly refused to allow them to fight without the handicap the Braids presented. He wouldn't allow them to learn to fight together unless they agreed to learn with the magic that would bind them once they left Yuki-onna's plane.

After a full week of intense bouts they had managed to defeat their tricky foe just once. Both boys oozed pride at the feat, until the defeated man casually told them to use the amulets. Pride quickly faded to dismay when the spark of light shuddered just once before growing to fill a mere quarter of the mental diamond. The sober realization that they should have been able to simply overwhelm the chuckling demon gave them a sudden respect for the versatility of magic.

"Look, I know you guys are new at this but I need you to really understand just how much of an advantage magic can be," Maz noted, eyes growing distant as a rare maturity entered his features. "Most of your foes will be playing for keeps. From what Ranma's told me, you've only had to deal with guys like that a few times. It helps to remember that even if you kill them, you can't destroy a god."

"And demons?" Ryouga pondered, absorbing the lesson.

"Unlike a god, they can die. Just remember: Devils might not be born evil but the way our power grows _is_ ample reason for us to be evil. Anyone strong enough to challenge you two probably deserves killing anyway," Maz finished grimly. Then a playful smirk suddenly broke the somber mood. "Either that or, like me, they're among the few who had other demons after them all the time."

"You don't use the kiddie gloves, huh," Ranma commented, the revelation casting his demonic pal in a dimmer light. He glanced towards the silent fanged boy by his side, suddenly introspective. "Even pork fry over here never made me wanna do anything permanent."

"Let's just say that most of my foes raised the stakes to the level Saffron raised them with you," Maz explained with a dry chuckle. His eyes narrowed as his gaze flickered between his two students. "Look, I'm not suggesting that you start ending foes whenever you can: The idea probably bothers you as much as it bothers me.

"I just want you two to face up to the cold facts now instead of during a moment of crisis: There will be times when your only option is a permanent one. Accept it now, when you have the luxury of time," Maz turned, walking towards the cottage. He glanced at the duo over his shoulder. "You might not have the chance to struggle with your conscience when the moment comes to act."

Nothing but silence followed their demonic teacher as he strolled back to his home.

Ranma bitterly reflected that he'd been forced to make that choice before. Flame-drenched wings of gold framing a haughty, delicately-featured face rushed to the front of his mind before he could slam the door closed. That decision had forever sullied the beauty of his martial art, had been totally unavoidable. It had damned him in allowing him to protect that which he must always protect.

His somber blue eyes found Ryouga's bowed head, wondering if his partner would be able to survive the consequences of choosing his own life or the lives of his friends above the life of an enemy, when the time came.

It was just a day before his challenge. In less than a day, he would fight Miyamoto Musashi. A terrible dread and a fierce pride warred within Ranma, rising and dropping his emotions with all the frequency and range of the worst waves an ocean hurricane could generate.

He couldn't decide if he should be proud of the fact that Musashi himself considered the blue eyed boy worthy enough for a formal challenge... Or if he should feel terrified of having to fight a man so legendarily adroit with even a wooden practice blade that his name was known across not just all of Japan, but all of the world itself.

The man had defeated four masters of Kenjutsu, one right after another, using nothing more than an improvised bokken roughly carved from a boat paddle.

It made him wonder how he could possibly tell anyone that he'd fought the man, let alone the chance that he could win. He'd accomplished things few people thought even existed before: Fighting, let alone defeating one of the most famous warriors in his nation's history would be a firm contender for a prominent place on his Top Ten Things You'll Never Believe I Did list.

He decided it would wind up as number three if he won, supplanting "Blowing up a cure because of Akane AGAIN". Even if he lost, just the opportunity was enough to dislodge the current number five, "Fought an eight-headed dragon dressed in drag". Regardless he knew that number ten, "Got cursed to turn into a girl", would finally be dropped from that first block of weirdness.

He wasn't sure if he should be happy he'd accepted his curse or worried that he was getting close to considering it one of the less notable events things in his life. Though only the fact he could prove it with cold water kept it from a spot in the top three.

He sat, quietly ignoring the latest episode of some ninja anime about a blond kid, allowing his thoughts to meander aimlessly in the last hour before bed. Ryouga had already gone to sleep over an hour before, Koyuki retreating to her room shortly after. Miyuki was still chatting quietly with her husband at the dining table, though with a glance towards the pigtailed boy she finally nodded once and strolled up the stairs.

"Alright kid, are you ready?" Maz pondered, tossing himself bottom-first towards the floor and snapping his fingers, landing with a light bounce in his well-worn armchair, leg thrown over one of the chair's arms as he intently studied his youthful friend, jaw resting on one loose fist.

"I dunno," Ranma finally admitted with a shrug, his unfocused gaze dropping as blue eyes met red. Eyelids covered sea-hued orbs as he focused on the upcoming match and let his surroundings fade. "I've almost brushed the fight off as nothin' big a few times. The guy reminds me so much of Kuno I keep assuming his fighting ability is like the idiot's skill as well. The only thing which snaps me back from that is knowing who my foe is."

"Not to mention the fact he's had centuries to wander the realms of existence," Maz added with a sly grin. He flicked his hand, rising to sit with elbows resting on knees, bridged fingers supporting a thoughtful face. "He's probably grown in skill since he died. It's also a pretty good bet he's got a few magic trinkets to help him. That wooden bokken he uses was crafted from the branch of a World Tree and has some pretty impressive auras besides. He's probably got an amulet, rings, or other small tokens which give him other advantages, too."

"Aww man..." Ranma groaned, head sinking to hit his right palm with a dull thud that rattled the chains on his arm just once. His head rose slightly to meet Maz's gaze. "Why does everyone got a bunch of magical crap but me?"

"It is an unfair advantage," the demon admitted, standing with a flourish and snapping his fingers. The fiery red tunic which appeared in his hand was woven from the finest silk, delicate gold embroidery dancing along the edges and skirting the buttons in twisting vines. He held it out to his young friend. "One I can easily correct. I was saving a few gifts for when you and my future son-in-law left, but if you're going to be fighting tomorrow you should have yours now."

"Thanks, man!" Ranma exclaimed, getting to his feet and accepting the tunic. It greatly resembled his favourite Chinese shirt, with only a few subtle differences. Black buttons made of obsidian held the garment together instead of wooden pegs. The gold embroidery was fancier than he might have liked, but he thought it might grow on him.

The black material lining the inside, was decidedly not cotton. It felt almost like a liquid, warm to the touch and slightly clingy. His wondering face rose to meet his benefactor's smile.

"Inside that shirt is a fabric weaved from the hair of a dragon. It might not be as good as a full suit of armor, but it's certainly a lot lighter. Technically you can't enchant dragon hair, but those buttons were easy to work with," Maz added, fingers pointing to the six jet black buttons gleaming with light reflected from the T.V. "The top two buttons grant a partial immunity to cold and heat. The third button protects you from minor spells, while the fourth gives you a bit of protection against the sort of diseases and poisons you'll probably encounter.

"The fifth button is a one-use bomb: Throw it at something, yell my name and ask for fire, and instant boom. Make sure you've got a bit of distance," Maz added with a grin, rubbing his jaw. "I put a lot of pep in that one. The sixth is a last-ditch escape. Crush it and you and anyone you're touching will be thrown into a random plane you can survive on. Just use it only in the worst circumstances... Whatever you run from won't be able to follow, but you might wind up in a place just as bad."

Ranma swallowed the lump in his throat, fingers brushing the buttons as he realized just how much this shirt would help. He knew he held something which could prove the difference between life and death in dozens of situations. He head rose. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," the demon replied with a dismissive snort. He pushed a length of bamboo conjured out of the air into the boy's fumbling hands, chuckling at the renewed incredulity as the youth juggled shirt and staff. "That staff isn't nearly as fancy: It's impossible to break and will cause damage to most spirits that regeneration won't heal. The only other tricks it has are pretty minor. If you block a weapon strike, the weapon will stick for half a second so your foe can't slide it along and whack fingers and it will shrink to a foot long with a thought, so you can store it when it's not needed."

"These are great," Ranma whispered, his eyes examining the dark lacquer covering the staff. The dark blue resin seemed to absorb light rather than reflecting it, giving the bamboo a soothing finish which made the wood seem to glow.

"I figured the best way to help would be to give you things that negate an enemy's magical advantage," Maz grunted, tapping the staff with a talon. "You and Ryouga are both fairly inept with handling spells and innate abilities. Giving you a handful would probably hurt you more than it would help."

"Hey, I'm the best!" Ranma retorted with a scowl which couldn't entirely smother his grin, the severity of the gesture diminished further by the laughter in his eyes. "There ain't a thing I can't learn. I'm gonna master magic some day, old man."

"I'm sure you could," Maz muttered, rolling his eyes. He sat back down, stretching his neck and sighing with a quiet contentedness at each muted pop. Ranma followed suit, staff shortening as soon as the boy realized how awkward the six foot length would feel while sitting. He rested the one-foot length on top of the shirt, reluctantly postponing his admiration as he focused on the devil in front of him.

Maz pursed his lips in contemplation as he studied his pigtailed friend, nodding to himself after a moment.

"The only other thing I've got for you is a bit of advice," Maz finally said, sinking deep into his chair. "You don't have any restraint... an attribute you'll need to learn if you want to survive the journey you now find placed in front of your footsteps. You need to control your need for action and understand the inevitability of having to watch and wait, no matter what you might feel at the moment."

"Hey, I've had to be patient plenty of times!" Ranma retorted, mind wandering back to that desperate game of hide and seek as he had avoided the Lost Boy, desperately forcing his mind to invent a solution to the near-insurmountable stamina the Bakusai Tenketsu training invested. Other events which had lead to the pigtailed boy's temporary retreat, inevitably followed by intense brainstorming came to the fore. "I can think of a few times when I've had to fall back and figure out how to win!"

"Yet you've never slowed the pace of a fight to consider a counter to a foe unless you had no other alternative," the youth's demonic teacher countered. His eyes glowed with intensity as he leaned forward once more, stabbing one razor sharp talon in the _cre'lak'din's _direction. "Against some of the foes you'll run into, you won't have the time or the stamina to fiddle with your limited range of chi techniques.

"You need to learn to figure out what you need to do to beat your opponent first. Not as an afterthought when you've tried all your special moves. Chi tornadoes, raw arrogance turned to blunt force, and countlessly repeated punches won't be enough to take down everything you fight." Maz scowled, shaking one finger in the boy's direction. "Hell, if Fate wasn't blind and numb to you and I wasn't in a position to give you that tunic and staff, I'd rate your chances of surviving your quest below a snowflake's chance in Infernus. You're an ignorant whelp accompanied only by a mewling newborn. Only the fact you've already downed a god with two prime domains, however limited he was, salves my conscience enough to let you continue at all."

"Saffron was a god with two prime domains?" Ranma exclaimed, thoughts racing back to the desperate fight in the sky above Jusendo. It had certainly been the most spectacular example of stupidity he'd ever found himself caught in but the way Maz had talked about the powerful magic of the spirits, even a god with a single prime domain was to be feared and avoided at all costs. "Then how'd I beat him?"

"Two reasons, kid. First, he was on the mortal plane of existence. Only the top-tier, big time honchos get to keep their magic when they're playing with humans," Maz chuckled, index finger popping up from a closed fist. The middle finger then joined it. "Second, he only had a few thousand followers. The power a god has to wield is partially influenced by the amount of faith he or she is invested with. Even a prime domain isn't worth much if you don't have hundreds of thousands devoting themselves to you."

"I guess the domains are sorta like faucets then," Ranma mused, scratching his temple as his gaze unfocused, mind intent on the analogy. "A prime domain is a fire hydrant, while a scrappy domains like left-handed circus freaks is a drinking fountain."

"And the followers are like the water," Maz finished with a scowl. "If you don't have enough water, a hydrant might not have much more flow to it than the fountain. Just be sure the hydrant's got low pressure before you stick your nose in it's face, okay?"

"Otherwise I might get my head knocked off by the geyser," Ranma agreed. The smirk on his face told Maz all he needed to know about the red-clad youth's opinion on danger. He returned the look with a smile, seeing in the young man more than a bit of what the demon had been like in his own youth.

He wondered if Fate railed even now against their meeting. Surely she knew that circumstances of their introduction, the nature of the pair's quest, and even the aid he and his family could render went far beyond the realm of good luck. The pair had been brought to the one place which could give them the tools and the knowledge they needed to turn the planes on their head and rattle the eternal spirits from that Norn wench who ruled in Hades to God Almighty himself.

Knowing her own magic had brought the event to fruition would surely give the green-haired bitch one hell of a migraine.

Author's Notes

First off, I offer profuse and repeated apologies for the delay. Lady Shinimegami has forever railed against the evils of Windows. It will please her to no end to learn I have abandoned that fickle overseer. Not to Mac OSX as she's pushed, but to Linux Ubuntu. The choice is equal parts spite for Lady Shinimegami and desire to keep my hardware.

I've spent the last three days acclimating to this strange, new environment. I like it.

I think.

The slant on Gods and Demons I'm using here is actually culled from an old pencil and paper RPG I wrote for a group. As Maz has explained here, players assumed the role of one of the two different types of eternal spirits. Thus I've posted a link in my profile, for those interested.

Working on this has actually lit a fire under the part of my ass associated with GMing. I'm looking for a group... So if anyone is interested, feel free to PM me or email me **AFTER **you've taken a look at the rules.

Cheers,

Gaming Ikari

**Update: **Well, it's officially been more than two years since I've done anything with this story. That's pretty damned painful since I don't even have the excuse of not wanting to do a rewrite like I do for the Loss, Hope & Redemption project. So I'm chucking a lot of the fate and interdimensional bullpoopie aside (and getting rid of Koyuki and Miyuki) to rework the project. It's going to essentially be the same premise: "Ranma and Ryouga are linked together by magic and have wacky adventures trying to fix the problem," but I'm going to move it in a totally different direction for the adventures and solving of the problem.

The way I'm doing that is by making Maz a shady bastard living in Roanapur who can certainly help, but only if Ranma and Ryouga are willing to work with (and occasionally against) the Black Lagoon company. Crossover. Booyah. Check out **Forcibly United**, as that's the way I'm officially continuing with this project. Sorry to anyone who was actually looking forward to more of this story in it's current form, but I'm really, really not liking it the way it currently stands.


End file.
